A Crossing of Two Worlds Take Two
by vaderisgod
Summary: I've seen lots of fics with Hermione marrying Snape or Draco but none
1. Choice

A Crossing of Two Worlds  
  
Summary: I've seen lots of fics with Hermione marrying Snape or Draco but none with her marrying Voldemort - so here it is - HGLV - What will Harry think? Rating just for safety net...  
  
Take Two...  
  
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Author's Note:  
  
Alright, fellow readers/reviewers...the Administrator people at removed my story – they said that the rating (PG-13) was wrong. Stupid reason really – the really annoying thing is when I updated the last chapter, I thought it should be R, and was seriously considering changing it, but changed my mind at the last second. Oh well, now I know...still, it sucks – no record of my story, and I don't have most of it on my hard-drive. Thank God my friend ArthurTwoSheds had copied my whole story onto her hard drive, and sent it to me on email...so anyway, here it goes.  
  
To my returning reviewers/readers who thought I had gone nuts and deleted my story, don't worry...and thanks for your patience – a new chapter shall be out sometime next week...  
  
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It was the summer after Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts; she, Ron, and Harry, along with all the others in their grade, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, had finally passed their seventh and final year and were now half- way into a beautiful summer.  
  
The famous Gryffindor trio kept in touch over the summer, resolved not to loose their friendships. Ron stayed with his family, Hermione, hers, and Harry was locked up in Grimmauld place, the Last House of Black, as Hermione liked to think of it. They met occasionally; last time over Butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks Ron had excitedly told his two friends how he had himself a girlfriend; Fleur Declour's little sister; they had run into each other when she came into London with her family on vacation to celebrate her sister's graduation.  
  
It was then that Hermione realized what a non-existant love-life she had, if it could be called that. She had seen no one since the short-lived episode with Krum, famous Quidditch player. She had always seen Ron as a potential, but he had a girl now. Lying in bed awake late one-night, a familiar face with glasses hiding beautiful green eyes, a scar, marking how strong he was in his many duels against Voldemort (she shuddered thinking of the vile man...), and black unruly hair...Hermione's eyes snapped open. Only now did she realize how alone Harry was in this world; he needed someone, just as she did...  
  
During lunch, a fortnight from her dawning on how she felt about Harry, she heard a loud /pop/ and went to see what it was. Albus Dumbledore's head was in the fire, his long white hair and beard intermingling with the flames...  
  
She knew Albus well from Hogwarts; she had always respected him, seen him as a brilliant wise wizard who always held so many lives in his hands, yet with so much on his platter he was able to handle it efficiently; hardly a thing escaped that man.  
  
Being a muggle-born well-read girl, back when she was going to muggle kindergarten she read a picture book once about wizards; thinking back to that, the picture looked just like Dumbledore did...old man with long white beard...Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore one day went off to fight dragons wielding a staff, much like in her picture book.  
  
But that was then; now, Dumbledore was waiting for her; it seemed urgent, judging on the fact that he flooed to her house instead of sending an owl.  
  
Hermione rushed over; Dumbledore looked grave.  
  
"Hermione – I am most sorry about this, but you must floo to Hogwarts, my office – there is something important I have to tell you. It cannot wait."  
  
He withdrew his head from the fire, leaving Hermione to her thoughts. She cleaned the kitchen with a swipe of her wand, took the last half of her bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwich and coffee with her, and flooed to Dumbledore's office. She landed sideways, most ungracefully by Dumbledore's fireplace, next to Fawkes on his golden stand; he squawked loudly at the intruder.  
  
Hermione got up and walked into the main part of Dumbledore's office, adjusting her sky-blue no-sleever and fixing her shorts; she hated traveling by Floo almost as much as Harry. Dumbledore gestured to the seat by his desk, eyes twinkling behind the spectacles.  
  
"Lemon drop?"  
  
Hermione shook her head, and put her coffee on the ground, allowing her two hands to finish her sandwich. Dumbledore jumped right into business.  
  
"Hermione, I am sure you are aware of the new Marriage law passed by the Ministry?"  
  
Hermione swallowed. Yes, she remembered. She remembered reading the Daily Prophet; Fudge and his minions had finally, idiots that they are, recognized inbreeding in pureblood families for what it was; since all pureblood families are related, and certain people insist on marrying only purebloods, they were all as inbred as the muggle royal families. It didn't surprise her a bit; she had expected something like this. It was still kind of funny though, that people like Sirius and Snape or Voldemort and Harry, or the Malfoys and Weasleys were all related to each other – honestly, how could you go around trying to kill your cousin? Then again, that's just what Ms. Bellatrix Lestrange did; Harry had never gotten over Sirius' death.  
  
And now Fudge had in his infinite wisdom (of which there isn't any), decreed that any single pureblood seeking to marry had the right to call upon an unmarried Muggle-born. Which meant if any pureblood asked for her hand in marriage, Hermione would have to accept. Unless she had more than one suitor; than she'd be allowed to choose. All of this to widen the gene pool among wizards because of stuck-up idiots (certain Slytherins and Ministry officials come to mind...) who insisted they were above anyone remotely muggle, although wizards evolved from muggles in the first place – so somewhere along the line they all came from muggles. It was sickening.  
  
Hermione looked up at Dumbledore, fearing his next words; anything along the lines of the new Marriage law was bad news, considering she was muggle- born herself. Dumbledore cleared his throat. His eyes twinkled behind the spectacles.  
  
"Hermione, I have received word that three men request your hand in marriage."  
  
Hermione's jaw dropped; she hadn't expected this; one maybe, but not /three/....who would want to marry her, the bushy-haired, know-it-all Gryffindor with no love life?  
  
"Who," Hermione asked nervously; her hands were shaking.  
  
"Well, I think I better explain something first...Hermione, exactly seventy- two years ago, three young expectant mothers were friends...Anna, Lauren, and Rose, I believe they went by. They had a discussion one night; unlike our dear minister Fudge, they saw the beginnings of inbreeding in pureblood families; Anna's husband for instance, was her second-cousin. They had been taught as children to marry only pureblooded wizards, so they do not dirty the magical blood-line held sacred for so many generations. And it would hold true for many more, if nothing was done.  
  
In old traditional families, someone a generation above you can ask you to do something, and you do it not only out of respect, but because of the blood-tie; you cannot refuse. The three women's talk turned to their husbands; pureblooded Slytherins involved in the dark arts; they didn't want their future children falling into that life. They agreed to request one of their future generations to marry someone completely different from them, to somehow bring the family to the side of light. The question was which generation. Watching the stars, Lauren saw a comet fly by and pointed out the falling star; and it was to be that when the comet flew by our planet again, letters containing their requests would be sent to their descendants, if they had any."  
  
He paused. Hermione was following what he said fearfully, unsure of what was coming. All she knew was it couldn't be good.  
  
"That comet flew by two nights ago, and the letters arrived to Lauren's, Anna's, and Rose's descendants. Needless to say, the three men I speak of were quite shocked to receive such letters; it was only too obvious what had to be done. Each one of them had to marry their complete opposite; which meant a Gryffindor muggle-born witch. And all three were smart enough to know that for such a marriage to work, it couldn't just be any witch; it had to be one whose intelligence level matched their own; neither were willing to marry a dim-witted woman, but someone whose head wasn't empty of knowledge.  
  
All three independently of each other, came to the conclusion that this meant marrying, well, you. I am deeply sorry about this, Hermione, but I'll allow you three months to chose your husband; by then you must be his fiancé."  
  
Hermione felt a huge weight on her shoulders. Hate, anger, fear, and anxiety weighing her down; it was all so confusing, yet she had to know...  
  
'And who can I choose from?' Hermione wondered. Dumbledore dissapparated from the castle holding onto Fawkes tail as he burst into flame.  
  
Someone banged on the door, and it slammed against the wall and bounced off slightly. Hermione whirled around and stared wordlessly at the men before her.  
  
A youth her age, with platinum blonde hair, and cold steel gray eyes...Draco Malfoy.  
  
A man a few years younger than her father, with long greasy black hair, and cold back eyes...Severus Snape.  
  
A man around the age of her grandfather, with no hair, just cold red eyes...Lord Voldemort.  
  
All tall, pale, evil, British, pureblooded, stuck-up, Slytherin, single wizards...  
  
She blinked once, twice; this couldn't be happening...how...but she knew how it came to be...Dumbledore just told her.  
  
She raised a hand delicately to right over her heart; she felt faint...  
  
But luck was not with her; she didn't pass out.  
  
In its place, visions came to mind of what it would be like to marry either of them. Never had she thought something like this...she wanted to marry Harry, if anyone, and now that couldn't happen.  
  
This had to be a dream, it just had to be...so much like a reality TV show... she wanted to laugh, but she knew none of the three would be involved in a joke...neither had a sense of humor, unless you counted the twisted sarcasm and glee when something went wrong.  
  
So real...  
  
Hermione was in a state of shock; she blinked several times in disbelief, her mouth opening and closing but no sound came out. She stared at the Prince of Slytherin, the Greasy Git, and Moldyshorts, as Ron christened them...  
  
Her eyes went out of focus as she envisioned being the wife to either....  
  
Her myriad of emotions - Anger, hatred, despair, amusement, mischief, and finally, acceptance – were revealed in her eyes...  
  
She felt like she wanted to die...how would Harry feel? Ron? Remus? The Weasleys? Her parents? The rest of the wizarding world?...she could see herself being cast aside as a turncoat from the side of Light, seen as a bitch, a whore, a puppy to her master by the side of Dark, but never quite finding a place...  
  
She was determined not to break down...no, she couldn't break down here, not now...the one thing she couldn't do was show weakness...  
  
Her three evil Slytherin pureblood suitors (it felt so strange to call the Malfoy, Professor, and Dark Lord she had known all her life that...) as they turned towards her, advancing towards her...she felt very small being only 5'4", while they were about 6'3" to 6'7"...  
  
She looked each of them in the eye, craning her neck slightly to do so.  
  
She wanted to cry out her fears but she couldn't here, no...  
  
She wanted to pound something senseless but she couldn't do that either...  
  
She wanted comfort but she knew none would be given...  
  
Hermione smiled politely in confusion, although it wasn't returned; she hadn't expected that. It surprised her that Dumbledore had fled, but there were other more pressing matters at hand. The silence was heavy with tension; for once Draco, Hermione, Snape, and Voldemort had nothing to say. Hermione struggled for a conversation topic.  
  
"Husband...Hell – I mean, I had always thought of marrying Harry ..." 


	2. Thoughts

Silence. An uncomfortable stone-still silence, quiet enough for anyone present to hear their heart beating within their chest, after Hermione uttered that one name.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. Snape's eyes were shifting; he was looking anywhere but at Hermione. Voldemort looked angry; he had his hand clenched on the wand in his inside pocket within his robes.  
  
Hermione felt very exposed next to /them/ in their long, flowing black robes. And she felt very short as well compared to them...  
  
She sighed; it was useless making conversation with these three...  
  
"I'm going," she said, pulling the doorknob behind her and slipping out. The last the preppy-blonde, grease-head, and nose-less heard of her was her muttering something along the lines of "bloody Slytherins" as she left the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office and turned left towards the Great Hall.  
  
She had not gone eight paces once she reached the Hall when she saw Dumbledore, eyes twinkling behind the spectacles with amusement, eating a Cauldron cake and licking his fingers. He looked up when he heard Hermione, smiling in greeting, not noticing the few crumbs sticking in his beard.  
  
"How did it go?" he asked, once he swallowed.  
  
Hermione growled in her throat, not trusting herself to speak.  
  
"Ah well, they are a charming bunch aren't they? I found a book in Hogsmeade; I thought you might like it..." Dumbledore said cheerily, licking his fingers one last time before producing a book from within the folds of his robes and handing it to Hermione. She snatched it from his hands, angry at him for dragging her into this in the first place. Who was he to control her life?  
  
She walked away, reading the cover, wanting to hex the lovey-dovey couple on the cover into oblivion. Hermione glanced at the couple underneath mocking her.  
  
"SCREW YOU DUMBLEDORE!" she screamed, and just as he turned around, surprised, she threw the book at him – it hit him square in the face and fell into his hands. Hermione turned on her heel and ran out of the castle, flinging the doors open and flying past a bewildered Hagrid going up the steps.  
  
Dumbledore, meanwhile, blinked, and walked back to his office, muttering the password to his trusty gargoyles.  
  
Snape, Draco, and Voldemort were standing by the fireplace, about to Floo out. Snape spun around, hearing Dumbledore's footsteps.  
  
"I see you have returned to us, Headmaster," he said silkily. Draco and Voldemort turned around.  
  
"Ah, yes, Severus - I just stopped by for lunch in..."  
  
Snape cut across him. "What's that you're holding?"  
  
Dumbledore looked down at the book.  
  
"Oh, I found this for Hermione in a bookstore I'm rather fond of – I gave it to her in the halls but she threw it at my head and yelled 'Screw you Dumbledore' in the Great Hall. Quite amusing actually."  
  
"What book is it to get the Mud - Granger so upset?" Draco asked, although not really caring.  
  
Dumbledore handed it to him. Draco stopped to read the cover; Voldemort, holding a fistful of Floo powder in his hand, and Snape bent over Draco's shoulder.  
  
"Romeo and Juliet" scrolled across the book in big fancy letters, followed underneath with "The famous love story by William Shakespeare."  
  
Voldemort blinked; it sounded familiar...he remembered reading it, way back during those long boring summers at the muggle orphanage. A bit too mushy for him – stupid sappy love stories - sounded like a Dumbledore-type-of- book alright (although he liked all the deaths – two servants, Mercutio, Tybalt, Paris, Lady Montague, Romeo, and Juliet, as he last recalled).  
  
He whipped out his wand and whispered "Incendio" – the book burst into flame in Draco's hands and burned down to ashes. Draco winced, staring down at his hands which were now red from the fire.  
  
"What was that for?" Snape asked. "I'm no romance-fan myself, but burning Shakespeare?"  
  
"Do you dare question your master?" Voldemort asked dangerously, pointing his wand at Snape's chest.  
  
Dumbledore watched the proceedings amusedly, as usual – Draco was helping himself to some Floo powder. Snape answered the Dark Lord with a 'no' before walking out of Dumbledore's office, headed towards his rooms. Voldemort threw the Floo powder in the fire and walked into the green flames, yelling 'The Riddle House' as he did so.  
  
Meanwhile, as soon as Hermione reached Hogwart's boundaries, which wasn't long, as she was running, she dissapparated. She appeared moments later in her room by the fireplace. She sank down in a comfy armchair, head in her hands. She suddenly felt very old. She started shaking, and tears leaked from her eyes.  
  
She had just graduated a month ago – she had her life ahead of her, she was free to do whatever she wanted – travel, fight in the war, research and invent or discover something, teach, write, become an Animagus...whatever she wanted now that she wasn't bound by schoolwork and being a minor.  
  
She had thought of marriage before, but she didn't want it just yet – and when she was younger she had always fancied marrying a Prince Charming, a Mr. Right – a man who could support her, protect her, /love/ her...as time went on, that vision shifted to a new light as she started recognizing potential candidates at Hogwarts...she saw herself marrying Ron or Harry eventually, although she crossed Ron off the list when she realized how immature he was. Harry was a potential...he was strong enough mentally, physically, spiritually, financially, etc, to support and protect her. And she knew he would love her in return – if she opened up her feelings and extended her heart to him, she knew Harry wouldn't refuse – he would only love her back –  
  
And less than an hour ago, she lost all that. Lost it. Oh sure, she was married now, but it wasn't bliss now. It was a curse. And it was a simple matter of the husband – with Harry she could see pure wedded bliss. With Malfoy, Snape, and Voldemort, she saw a curse – she saw herself being chained to them, iron trapping her wrists and feet and throat, welded to an iron chain held perhaps gleefully by her husband. Under magical marriage law, when the groom kissed his bride, a bond developed between them, although legally, the man had power over his spouse; a remainder from Medieval times, just like the fact that a woman took her husbands last name and lost her identity when she married.  
  
Hermione cringed at the thought – 'Mrs. Hermione Malfoy'? 'Mrs. Hermione Snape'? 'Mrs. Hermione Riddle'?  
  
In her mind, she saw several nightmares play out as a result of her marriage. An abusive husband. One that ignored her. One that cheated on her. Or raped her. Or enslaved her. Or tortured her or killed her or yelled at her or insulted her...She could see all within the range of either. With Draco it'd be sexual abuse. With Snape it'd be verbal abuse. With Voldemort it'd be physical abuse. Neither was desirable.  
  
She saw herself forbidden from seeing Harry ever again, forbidden from talking to Dumbledore, dragged down into a world of purebloods, Slytherins, Death Eaters, Dark Arts, a shadow cast on her once light-filled life.  
  
What would people's reactions be? What would Harry or Ron say? Would they still be friends with her, or desert her as a traitor, the way most of the wizarding world surely would? Would her husband's "friends" accept her, or be wary of her as a potential spy, or see her as her husband's whore?  
  
She was still a virgin....and Magical Law decreed you had to consummate your marriage within six months – of course there was always the chance her husband would ignore that, but it wasn't likely.  
  
She grimaced and a small sob escaped her lips as she mulled over the strings attached to her newly-acquired freedom. Her freedom of which there was only three months left – three months left to survive.  
  
Until she was stuck in a living hell awaiting her death.  
  
She wiped her tears away and sat up. Death. That was an attractive option. Kill herself and she wouldn't face years of mental/physical/emotional damage and torture through her future spouse, her soul-mate.  
  
She went to bed that night on an empty stomach, having no appetite. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She kept picturing Snape's sneering pale hook-nosed face surrounded by greasy black hair...Draco's smirking pale pointed face and platinum-blonde hair...Voldemort's livid pale snake- nosed face...faces swimming in front of her...  
  
She heard their voices in her ears as if they were right next to her – an arrogant drawl, a silky baritone, a high cold whisper...  
  
Their eyes stared at her in the darkness – cold red snake-like black eyes like endless steel-gray eyes...  
  
Never wavering...  
  
Memories replayed in her head – the time Malfoy called her 'mudblood', the time her buckteeth enlargened and Snape said 'I see no difference', the time Voldemort tortured her for information about Harry, just last year...when Snape called her an 'insufferable know-it-all'...when she, Ron, and Harry (it hurt thinking about them) made a Polyjuice potion thinking Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin...going to the Department of Mysteries to fight off Voldemort...hearing about Harry's visions and recounts of his memorable episodes at the end of each year...the shock people had whenever she said 'Voldemort' – how he was talked about in hushed tones as if he might be on the other side of the door listening...seeing Voldemort's name in the books, Malfoy in the papers, Snape in potions journals...his spiky handwriting on her homework...Malfoy and Snape's snide-comments and insults directed at her...hearing Dumbledore, Harry, the Weasleys, Sirius, and others talk about what Voldemort's up to, Snape's latest potion's assignment or report from a DE meeting, whether or not Malfoy will follow in his father's footsteps and his father's influence in the ministry...  
  
Countless memories causing her pain, times that have hurt her over the years. Life would be so easy if everyone was in their own little bubble, in their own little world, instead of interacting with everyone else and offering their two-cents whether it's wanted or not...  
  
If only life were that simple. But no, it's hard-wired in humans to need others to survive – there's a biological need for others to interact with, whether it's a lover, parent, friend, professor, enemy, stranger...  
  
At last, Hermione fell asleep, just as it was near daybreak.  
  
She awoke late the next day, around eleven. Over a late breakfast, she came to terms with a simple fact. She had three months of freedom left. Why waste it on brooding over what was to come in the future instead of enjoying it while she could?  
  
She resolved to focus her life on other things besides the change her life would take, no matter how hard it would be to – well, not necessarily forget, just put on the back-burner in her subconscious...  
  
As for the option of killing herself, she thought it just wouldn't be Gryffindor to do so – and there was the satisfaction that her life became a living hell because of marriage, her husband's would also.  
  
She felt much happier after that thought.  
  
So life continued as usual. 


	3. Beauty and the Beast

Voldemort sat in his familiar dusty emerald-green armchair by the fireplace, in the same room where he had killed the Riddle's gardener in Harry's fourth year...not that it mattered anymore. He had a body now, so having Wormtail as a servant to help him with everything was useless. For once he sat alone, deep in thought, while nursing a cup of Oo Long tea, a Chinese tea he was particularly fond of. No blithering Wormtail, arrogant Lucius, or other annoyances disturbed his peace.  
  
He held the letter sent through time by his mother; he was furious at first, being unable to refuse...she was not just some far-off descendant, but his own mother – his own mother, asking him to seek out a Gryffindor mudblood for the 'sanctity union of marriage' – he had chuckled at that – as if he would be wound up in that...but the darker seriousness of the matter descended on him. He had to marry whoever it was, annoyance as they would undoubtedly be, being a Gryffindor and all that...  
  
He was a half-blood, so she could refuse his offer...that is, if she knew he was a half-blood. Currently only that blasted Dumbledore and that brat Potter knew of his true lineage – everyone else thought he was as pureblooded as purebloods went. He wouldn't even be going around asking her hand in marriage if the owl with the letter hadn't come during a Death Eater meeting, of all times...his followers expected him to find someone to serve him and satisfy him, some whore that couldn't refuse his offer as he was thought to be pureblood. It would damage his reputation completely if it leaked out that he was a half-blood – less pure than Potter, and a plain hypocrite – killing muggles when his own dad was one. It wasn't that he cared about or had ever cared about Ministry law, but he had to keep up appearances if he was to have his followers – it would be horrible if they turned their backs on him and reported to Dumbledore's bloody order –they knew too much, and there were too many to stamp them out completely.  
  
He tortured many of his followers that night, the night he received the letter. Many left shaking in terror.  
  
That was of course, until an idea came to light.  
  
Potter.  
  
With all his friends.  
  
His two most loved Gryffindor friends, Ron Weasley, pureblood with red hair, poor, Quidditch-nut. Hermione Granger, intelligent mudblood witch.  
  
She satisfied both the mudblood and Gryffindor requirements. She was eighteen. She had graduated. She was intelligent. And she would get him closer to Potter. Much closer. If he married her, she would either see Potter, or if he forbid it, see him in secret or send owls. Either way, he'd be much closer to the damned boy-who-lived-and-consistently-infuriated- him-to-no-end. Perfect. And Potter was close to Dumbledore. And he was in the Order; an added bonus. Add in the fact that the Order was connected with the Aurors, and well, he was ecstatic – it was so beautiful...  
  
And then he found out first-hand from Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape that they received eerily-similar letters. And that they had locked on to Hermione Granger as well. He had a 1:2 chance of having her...  
  
A ratio somewhat demolished by factors taken into consideration. Hermione had a choice now. He was old, ugly, mean, evil, cruel, violent, merciless, and her best friend's public enemy #1. And that was putting it lightly. Lucius' kid and his Potions master were Sexy Gods by comparison to him. He stopped for a second. Sexy Gods??? He burst out laughing. Not just an evil cackle, but he threw back his head and laughed. Had Wormtail been there, he would have wet his pants. Or fainted. A matter that only fueled his laughter.  
  
Draco was somewhat shocked when the letter came to him several days ago from someone far back on his dad's side, now only a name on the tapestry hanging in a forgotten room somewhere, marking the Malfoy family tree.  
  
He had went to that family tree immediately after; all of the wizards and witches were purebloods, going up at least six generations before a half- blood appeared. And he would be polluting the sacred line, as pure as royalty, poisoning the proud Malfoy line forever thanks to some twisted, deranged ancestor – marrying a Gryffindor mudblood – honestly. He traced his finger over the name three generations above his own, embroidered in silver thread on an emerald-green background.  
  
The only Gryffindor mudblood he knew of was Hermione Granger.  
  
Thank Merlin Lucius, as he called his father, was not here at the moment, but in Azkaban, thanks to bloody Potter. Lucius would have disowned him, thrown a fit, beat him, and hexed him into next Thursday if he heard what his son was planning to do.  
  
There was no question though. It had to be done.  
  
In a way, it might be a good thing. Potter had gotten rid of Dobby. Perhaps Potter's best friend and soul-mate could take Dobby's place. From what he knew of Hermione, she despised house elves' role in the wizarding world, that she had formed a club to give them equal rights and sick leave and clothes and salaries and went so far as to trick them into wearing clothes...it still made him laugh thinking of it.  
  
It might not be so bad having Hermione as his wife – he could make her clean the house, cook his food, clean and fold and put away his clothes, and of course as she was his wife he could legally do whatever he wanted with her – it'd be like having a house elf only with special privileges. She was so fixed on the joys of being a muggle – maybe she'd like doing all the cleaning and cooking and chores around the house muggle-style? Back- breaking labor, harsh chemicals, on hands and knees wearing gloves...and he'd be there sipping lemonade and laughing at her, possibly with a lover or two on the side.  
  
Hell, he could always threaten her with his father, with the Dark Lord, threatening to kill bloody Potter or Weasley or her family...she'd do anything he wanted...  
  
He grinned.  
  
He went to a Death Eater meeting that night, fully aware that last time a meeting was held, Voldemort had received a similar letter as to the one he received. This time it was just himself and Snape present with their Dark Lord. Apparently Voldemort had read their minds and found out not only that they got practically the same letters, but they had all unknowingly fixed on one girl. Voldemort was furious; he tortured Snape and Draco through the Cruciatrius curse, yelled at them, but it did no good. Fixed as he was on marrying someone who would link him to Harry Potter and Dumbledore's band of misfits, aka the Order, he didn't really want to married, let alone to a mudblood Gryffindor. Draco had his heart set on marrying Hermione to put her through living hell by having her be Dobby's replacement – it would serve her right for humiliating him every year grade-wise – no matter what, she was better than him, smarter than him...It would serve Harry right too. And thus the three decided to confront Hermione at once and get it over with – also, it'd be a nasty shock – her reaction would be priceless in Draco's view.  
  
Surprisingly, she took it better than he expected...damned Gryffindor bravery. Yet probably not brave enough to marry Voldemort – he crossed that name off the list. So it was between him and Snape – he never thought he'd be running against his favorite teacher in anything...  
  
Stupid know-it-all. She'd probably chose Snape, seeing as he was the one with more brains out of the two of them. He could match her intellect far better than he could – Snape was after all, farther in his years, more mature...  
  
Snape walked back to his potions lab at Hogwarts – ah, the joyful peace and quiet – no ruddy dunderhead students running around wrecking havoc on his poor dungeons. Honestly, a few more years and he wouldn't be surprised if the roof fell on him. Not that that was entirely a bad thing.  
  
He didn't know why he pinpointed Hermione as a wife in the first place. Although she was a witch with a mind beyond her years, the first student he had stumbled upon in years and years who matched his brain power neuron for neuron. Gryffindor or not, she was clever and smart enough to help him with his year's work of potion-making.  
  
He had spent so long on potions – so many orders to fill, for Pomfrey's collection in the hospital wing, Dumbledore's healing potions, Voldemort's poisons, and any research he was asked to do or took on for himself. There were so many potion orders to fill and work on – he really needed an assistant. Someone he could trust not to blow up dangerous potions, risking his health and his precious dungeons. He had people help him during detention, but all too many botched the simplest potions – she was the only one he trusted enough to brew potions such as Lupin's Wolfsbane potion during one detention – as usual she performed that task perfectly.  
  
He really needed an assistant, a partner –  
  
Not to mention, his only real girlfriend in life had been Lily, Harry's mom – for a few months, before bloody James took her from him. Since then, he had gone into Dark Arts working for Voldemort, and become the cynical, diabolic, sarcastic, bitter, cruel man he was now. He needed someone in his life to fall back on.  
  
He couldn't kid himself anymore. He needed someone, but someone who had brains – he'd kill himself if he were stuck with a ditzy, airhead, preppy plastic wife who flirted with other males, giggled too much, and spent way too much time on picking out shoes to buy with his money, or other frivolous acts known to women.  
  
Currently the only witch he knew of that met that description, and was Gryffindor and muggleborn, was bloody Miss Granger. Friend of Potter. Member of the Golden trio, the dream team, the three Musketeers, the Gryffindorks, whatever you wanted to call them. He sat down and rubbed his temples, feeling an oncoming headache.  
  
Soon he found out that Lucius' son and the Dark Lord had received similar letters to the one he received only too recently, and that they had also targeted Hermione. Poor girl.  
  
At least it wasn't so bad. She had a choice. He knew she'd cross Voldemort off immediately, no matter what he might do to her, as far as coming after her seeking revenge. She had Dumbledore and the spoiled brat Potter on her side. So it was between him and Draco. She would pick Draco, he knew it. He was as old as her parents, a Death Eater, her former professor, Head of Slytherin, a spy, greasy, pale, big-nosed, and to put it short, mean and ugly. Draco was her age, had his whole life ahead of him, and hell – he had the looks – he was not a bad student, and he even played Quidditch.  
  
Snape shrugged. Isolation and solitude had shaped his life before, why shouldn't it now?  
  
Time went on. Nearly three months had passed since that afternoon in Dumbledore's office, since the letters came. The Gryffindor and The Three Slytherins got on with life. Sure, it was in the back of everyone's mind, but after so much, you just have to let it go and go on, hard as it is.  
  
She had gone to Diagon Alley to pick up several books, anxious to continue her studies. Her potions-making, charms, transfiguration, and arithmancy skills were now much more adept then they had been, if that was possible for her.  
  
She had seen Harry and Ron frequently over that time, resolved to spend as much time with her valued friends as possible, as she doubted she could have them by her side once she married.  
  
Ron hadn't noticed, but Harry certainly saw the longing look she gave to couples on the street, or the strange, almost sad look she shot Ron when he mentioned his girlfriend. He asked her about countless times in private, but she refused to say a word, knowing it would hurt him.  
  
Hermione had nearly forgotten about that moment back in early July. It was now late September, a peaceful fall Sunday.  
  
It was over a cup of tea and a croissant that a familiar owl flew in her window, holding out a scroll on its leg. She untied it, and the owl took off, clearly not waiting for a response. The scroll was sealed with the Hogwarts crest; she dug her nail under it and opened it. Dumbledore's loopy handwriting met her eye.  
  
She read down the letter and felt a weight drop down in her stomach, felt weight pressing on her shoulders. She wasn't hungry anymore; she pushed the croissant away.  
  
/Dear Hermione Granger,  
  
How was your summer? Mine was delightful; I managed to convince Minerva to go on a Mediterranean cruise with me, although Snape said he would have nothing of the sort, and walked off muttering something about 'frivolous cruises – the things muggles come up with.'  
  
I am most sorry, but I don't mean to put unnecessary strain on my owl (Godric is his name) by making him fly long feet of parchment across the country, so I must post a simple reminder in the hopes of jogging your memory back to July sixth, I believe it was, when we had our discussion in my office over who you wished to join with in the bond of marriage bliss.  
  
A week from today, at five-thirty in the evening, I expect you to be present at the Leaky Cauldron. I have made an appointment with the minister at the stone church in Hogsmeade should you request to marry there and then.  
  
-Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts  
  
PS – Tom saw me with the Romeo and Juliet book you threw at my head – he incinerated it, I'm afraid. Should you wish a copy of Shakespeare's lovely play, the kind fellow at Flourish and Blotts will be able to help you, I'm sure./  
  
Hermione scowled in disgust and scrunched up the note, before throwing it on the floor.  
  
She didn't know who to marry – all were abominable choices; it was no wonder they were single...  
  
That letter certainly put a damper on her spirits.  
  
The rest of that week, she wandered about in an angst state, distracted by the choice she had to make no matter what she was doing, restless, unable to finish things, and she settled into a state of insomnia and not eating once again. She was dreading next Sunday, which only meant it crept up faster, like in their fourth year when Harry was dreading the first task in the TriWizard Tournament – ah, thinking of Harry hurt, knowing she would probably never see him again.  
  
On Saturday, the night before her eventual marriage, she had a light dinner – just a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and a glass of water – she didn't see a point in bothering with her cooking skills when it was just herself she was cooking for. Of course that would all change in less than twenty- four hours.  
  
And she still didn't know who she'd marry – she had crossed Voldemort off the list a long time ago, but still – Draco or Snape? Draco or Snape? Draco had looks, Snape had brains...  
  
She felt old – she wasn't the type that could handle with this type of thing...of course Harry always had his life controlled by the two extremes walking the Wizarding world – Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. As did many others, now that she thought of it.  
  
She decided to watch a video to get her minds off things – she went to the video shelf and ran her finger down the spines, skipping over the Disney section she had from when she was a small child, but she couldn't find anything. Wait. Disney. She went back – and pulled out an old time favorite, /Beauty and the Beast./  
  
Hermione nodded and put it into the VCR, grabbed the remote, and flopped on the couch. She turned on the TV and for once actually bothered watching the previews, knowing this would be her last time seeing a movie, let alone Disney. Once she married she wouldn't have the advantages muggles have with electricity.  
  
Watching Belle go around the villages, reading a book, she was strongly reminded of herself. Guston (A/N: spelling?) seemed a bit like Harry, in the having girls and admired and revered upon as a hero by the local village – although she was more interested in Harry than Belle in Guston. Hermione hit her head against the remote – why did everything have to remind herself of her future? The Beast – well, that was obviously either Snape or Voldemort – Draco neither looked like a beast nor had a beast's temper, nor was feared as one by the "local village."  
  
Interesting – the Beast locked Beauty in her room, imprisoning her in the castle – had a fiery temper, but softened once he met Beauty, saving her life when she tried to escape, and letting her leave once she saw her loved one was sick – of course it was then that she noticed Guston had gathered a riot to storm the castle, and meanwhile, the Beast's servants were guarding the doors. Interesting how much the Beast changed over the course of the movie...  
  
And then Belle came back to see Guston (Harry! Hermione thought) and the Beast fighting on a rooftop, as both wanted her. And as the Beast lay dying, Belle said "I love you" and the spell was broken, he became a prince again, and they married.  
  
Hermione giggled. "Prince" – yes of course, she was marrying "Prince Charming" tomorrow and all would be right with the world, she thought sarcastically.  
  
A thought came to her. Of course. She could change him. Whoever she married, she could change him – make him more docile. Draco could always find a wife – he was young, Quidditch star, Malfoy, bright, cute – finding a girl wouldn't be a problem for him. So it came down to a choice between – well, she had crossed Voldemort off long ago, but now it seemed an attractive option (A/N: sarcastic pun fully intended). She could marry Snape, but what good would that do, other than being taunted by her former classmates and forced to stay at Hogwarts in the dungeons for most of the year until he graduated?  
  
Voldemort though...she could make him more docile...maybe not loving, but neutralize his violent tendencies among other things. And the Death Eaters and Order members, her friends – would have to meet eventually, if it were because of her. And – Voldemort could do with a major make-over...make him sexier...  
  
Hermione grinned. This would be fun. Voldemort didn't know what he was in for. 


	4. A Plan

She had been in the wizarding world for years now – ever since she was an eleven-year-old at Hogwarts for her first time.  
  
She had seen all the hate, anger, violence, and bigotry in the magical world – and up until now she had calmly stood by and watched scenes unfold before her – watched as wizards hating each other clashed every time they saw each other, yelling at each other, holding grudges, fueling each other's anger, leading to violence, someone's death, and just adding more stress.  
  
The wizarding world was separated down the center. It was as if there was two different species; Gryffindors and Slytherins. Light and Dark. White and Black. Good guys and bad guys. The world was split between those on Dumbledore's side and those on Voldemort's side. A few trod in the gray areas on the borderline between the two sides, such as Wormtail or Snape, but they were the exception; few and far between.  
  
She looked down on brushes between the two sides with scorn from Day One.  
  
Harry and Voldemort. Weasleys and Malfoys. Black and Snape. Potters and Snape. Malfoys and herself. Fudge and Dumbledore. Dumbledore and Voldemort. And that was just the beginning. There were so many more hate- relationships present in the Wizarding world...  
  
So much hate between the 'two sides.'  
  
She recalled something someone had said to her long ago – "It takes just one person to make a difference." One person with a change of idea, a few start following them, and then it trickles down into the mainstream of the population – all from that one person. Like when a rock is dropped in a pond and the water radiates out in larger and larger ripples.  
  
She would do anything to end it all – end the hate, and the war is over – not necessarily convert anyone to the Light, nor to the Dark, but to someplace in between.  
  
Anything – she'd marry Voldemort, knowing full well she was putting not only her happiness, her innocence, but her own life at risk – anything was worth it, in her opinion to end the feud that had been going on in the wizarding world for centuries.  
  
Hermione's Gryffindor bravery that had been absent for the past week, settled back in her – she was resolved to do whatever it took to break down the wall between the two sides, and form an alliance between the two sides.  
  
She was at the perfect position to do so, as Harry Potter's best friend, and given the option to marry Lord Voldemort. She knew what she was in for, but there was a chance she could end all the hate – one thing she learned from the Time Turner is that your actions and the results of them are very complicated – and that you don't always have time to wait and let things take care of themselves. If she did that, Sirius Black would've been worse than dead as of third year, and Buckbeak would be dead.  
  
It seemed impossible at first to accomplish such a task as resolving the hatred in the wizarding world between the Light and Dark sides without starting a war (which would still leave things the way they were and unfinished) – but now that she thought about it, it could be possible. Form a relationship with Voldemort – enough so he cares about her. A hard task, but simple enough in that he's human – not a monster. One thing she learned from her books was the biological nature of humans – humans are social animals, requiring others to survive, needing someone to be there for them...a human can't survive in isolation – humans are naturally programmed to need others to love, to be loved...even Voldemort, hard as the thought was to process, even he was human. So, once phase one was completed, have Harry come over occasionally – basically have him and Voldemort meet and over time become more civil and tolerant of each other – then, hopefully, an alliance can be formed between them. Then Good and Evil truly would be united, as the leaders would be on the same side – not Black or White, but Gray. Then it was just tying up loose ends – once an example is set with two radically different well-known people such as the Boy-Who-Lived and You- Know-Who, it was possible for people such as Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy to lay down their weapons in acceptance.  
  
That was her theory at least.  
  
There was a possibility it wouldn't work, but there was a possibility it would work.  
  
In any case, she would never know until she tried. If all else failed, she could either kill herself, or hire Harry to kill Voldemort for her.  
  
But she didn't want it to come to that. All she wanted to do was unite the Gryffindors and Slytherins, the Good and Evil in the world – make them come to terms and realize what their fighting for is pointless, their differences are small and unimportant, if any – that going around killing each other in a huge war resulting in a stalemate and unresolved conflict wouldn't do it.  
  
Hermione sighed. There was so much to it, but if she were to start it, she would have to make her choice and marry the sadistic man – to drop the stone in the pond and help the ripples begin to grow...  
  
Voldemort sat alone again, holding a hand to his head. Torturing and killing day after day. Throw in a few death eater meetings here and there. Few prisoners. Few attacks. An occasional meeting with Potter. All in all, it was monotonous in its entirety. What was the point? Same thing – plots to hopefully kill Potter but fail, plots to storm on Dumbledore's Order and the Ministry, plots to recruit more members, plots to terrify innocent muggles and mudbloods...for about fifty-five years and counting. What had it achieved him? A name that many wizards feared to speak, but they just came up with new names...many plots failed only to have new ones risen just like the old ones. Potter was still healthy, alive, and kicking. He still didn't have immortality. It was all the same...  
  
He had been known to go through many sadistic, angry, and happy mood swings which put his death eaters on edge – few could decide which was worse. And now he felt angst.  
  
Yet when he was alone, sometimes he wondered why. Why he was doing all this – why he felt the need to torture and kill continuously. Sure, it was fun, but after months, years, decades, half a century, of doing just that – planning to, doing it, or finishing it, well, it just became boring. He had tried new techniques, new people, new spells...but in the end it all came down to the same thing.  
  
He didn't know what he wanted in life; being feared by everyone and making himself a public menace had its perks, but was it what he really wanted? Maybe the idea of settling down and having a family wasn't so bad, but it was probably too late for that anyway.  
  
He laughed grimly – and summoned Wormtail. He needed a break from brooding on his depressing thoughts...Wormtail always gave him that satisfaction.  
  
A fat, balding blonde man appeared immediately, looking around nervously as if he wanted to be anyplace but here...he bent forward, kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes in respect before standing back, groveling about something or other incoherently. Voldemort sighed. He didn't know why he chose Wormtail in the first place – for information about the Potters, but now that information was worthless.  
  
"Shut up!" Voldemort hissed in an angry whisper. Wormtail went quiet immediately.  
  
"Do you have any news of importance?" Voldemort hissed dangerously.  
  
"Ye-yes, m-my lord," Wormtail stuttered. "I have re –received information that Bella failed in killing Black..."  
  
The pale man in the chair before him leaned forward slightly, and beckoned his servant to continue. Wormtail regained some of his strength, but still trembled slightly in front of his master.  
  
"A -at the last meeting, I overheard her talking to Avery as she left...from what I heard, it sounded like she mispronounced the Killing Curse when killing her cousin, and merely put him in a coma – he has been kept in the Lestrange's basement bound in chains for quite some time..."  
  
Voldemort leaned forward; it was so fun to terrify Wormtail into hysterics, although that happened nearly every time he saw the man.  
  
"And why," Voldemort hissed, "Didn't you think of telling me this EARLIER?"  
  
"I d-did-didn't think it wa-was of imp-importance," Wormtail stammered, sounding exactly like Quirrel, being that he knew what was to come.  
  
"CRUCIO!" Voldemort muttered. He watched Wormtail crumple to the floor and twitch in a sort of fit before screaming.. he watched this go on for several seconds – it never ceased to amuse him – it was like a kind of game – see who can last the longest before screaming, like a sort of sick-minded race – see who could stay on their feet the longest before falling to the floor – sick as others may find it, Voldemort quickly found a passion for the Dark Arts. He released the curse on Wormtail. The Cruciatrius curse tended to get dull after awhile – its like even if you have a favorite song or a favorite food, after so long you just get – tired of it – it loses its glamour in your eyes.  
  
"Bring Black to me. I'm sure once he wakes up, you and Snape will have a grand time breaking him down."  
  
Wormtail nodded, looking at the floor. Sirius Black – it seemed so long ago...like another lifetime back at Hogwarts, lying on the grassy field by the lake or pulling pranks with the Marauders – Black and James had always been the ringleaders of the game, Lupin was the brains, and well he – he didn't know what he was. Ah yes – Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and he was Wormtail. Their enemy was Snivellus, a man who had turned to the Dark side just like himself. He dissapparated.  
  
Voldemort smiled a toothy grin. He doubted his death eater knew, but Wormtail always found some way of cheering him up – or at least taking his mind off other matters. Like his thoughts before summoning Wormtail.  
  
Ah – imprisoning Black. He could find an end to his boredom in that.  
  
It would also be a great way to summon Potter to his side. The kid would do anything for his precious Godfather. 


	5. Life of a Dark Lord

Hermione awoke late the next day, having not gotten to sleep until late. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up slowly in bed, dreading the day.  
  
Dumbledore said in his letter he wanted her to come in the evening to the Leaky Cauldron – absently she looked at her clock and noted she had about six and a half hours left until she was forced to marry. Life sucked, as Ron would so elegantly put it.  
  
She crawled out of bed and went down to her kitchen set on making a cup of tea and a bite of toast.  
  
That day she went over to visit Harry in Sirius' old house, knowing she'd probably be seeing him for the last time, seeing as she had decided the night before she'd marry Voldemort. Now that she thought about it, her plans were a bit unrealistic given everything, well, everyone had been through and how they would be unforgiving – but she had to start somewhere. As to how she would do things, she figured she would ad-lib it as she went – but be subtle as far as suggestions went, and be cautious – play to his strengths at first, and don't get him angry...she had found out the hard way last year what happened when he got angry – he set Lucius and Crabbe to torturing her through Cruciatrius at the same time.  
  
Harry noticed she wasn't her normal cheery self, but didn't bother saying anything; and that's all she needed. She didn't think she'd ever be able to tell him what she would do, now – now that she looked into his emerald- green eyes which had aged – lost some of their sparkle through the years as he endured pain, suffering, and deaths through Voldemort...  
  
All too quickly, the time came for her to go; she said good bye to Harry one last time, kissing him on the cheek and giving him a hug.  
  
Voldemort was lying asleep in his four-poster bed with a navy blue bedspread...he had always liked the color; it was all he remembered of his mother – a painting of her forgotten in the attic in the Riddle house – she wasn't beautiful – just plain, but she was in dark blue robes, her silky black waves of hair cascading down her back, with brilliant blue eyes matching the dress color, orbs revealing a compassionate, kind spirit within.  
  
Talking to a plump, elderly squib night nurse during the long years at the muggle orphanage that knew his father and was fond of his mother, he found out more...  
  
His mother had been a smart witch at Hogwarts, a Slytherin, a empathetic girl once you got to know her, but she kept to herself mostly and was very quiet; many of her fellow Slytherins made fun of her for her personality, saying she was a disgrace to their house, not knowing that she carried Slytherin's blood in her veins, as would her son...  
  
Once she graduated, she met Thomas "Tommy" Riddle – a Muggle man she fell in love with and ended up marrying, when she was only nineteen...her family disowned her for marrying a Muggle, and people scoffed at her and humiliated her, so she left the wizarding world.  
  
A year after their marriage, on their anniversary, she told him that she was a witch...he left her, taking all royalties, money, and the property, leaving nothing for her.  
  
Having no place to go, she went to a low-down motel, working as a waitress in the motel's restaurant to earn money for her stay. She was pregnant with him – Voldemort – so she couldn't do much, but the man who ran the motel allowed her to stay on board on sick leave as long as after she gave birth to her child she made up for lost time. She consented.  
  
One day, her water broke, and the owner of the motel gladly drove her himself to the nearby hospital. It was a long, painful birth for her, but she refused to undergo medication or go under the gas, fearing it would harm her baby. Just as she gave life to her newborn son, she looked into his blue eyes, much like her own, and for a second or two she saw a vision of the heir of Slytherin, as her son would be – a tall, thin man in black robes, with alabaster skin and a pale, hairless snake-like face – only two snake-like slits for a nose, a lipless mouth and fangs, red snake-slit eyes...what's more, he was torturing an innocent muggle woman, and /laughing./  
  
They say she only lived long enough to name him after his father – "Thomas", and "Marvolo" after her own father – perhaps a last hope at redemption, at seeking forgiveness from the husband who had abandoned her and the man who disowned her.  
  
She had had a rough life that ended shortly, at age twenty. His mother had died during childbirth with him. He felt the guilt weighing him down still after all these years – he knew he couldn't help it, that sometimes it happened, but he still felt that it was his fault.  
  
The summer he turned sixteen, before sixth year at Hogwarts, the year when he would unleash the Basilisk on the school, he found in an old town directory where his father lived.  
  
He remembered going there, seeking revenge – his muggle father who had left his expectant, angelic mother as soon as he found out she could do magic...taking all their money, property, and belongings with him too.  
  
He found the "Riddle House" as the neighbors called it – an old house but kept nicely by the gardener Frank. He went in at dusk, dimming the lights as he went to keep his presence undiscovered. He found his father with a ditzy dyed-blonde woman who could only be his wife, and their ten-year-old child – his half-brother. It was only too easy to cast Avada Kedavra on the inhabitants – kind of depressing really – his father didn't even recognize him – not like he expected it, as his father hadn't seen him since he was but a zygote in his ex-wife...he remembered going in – killing the wife – she was the first he saw – why his father could have happiness when his mother had been denied it all her life – he killed her first. And then his half-brother – who could live in a decent house with his parents together when he was stuck at a bloody muggle orphanage...  
  
And then his father came in after hearing all the yells. His father stared at him angrily; ready to scream for the police or something equally stupid...until Tom Riddle simply said "Do you know who I am?" The man just blinked in confusion. "Do you remember sixteen years ago leaving a woman after she revealed she could do magic?" His father simply opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. The younger Voldemort rounded on him – foolish muggle, yet he was his father.  
  
"You left her a month pregnant with me," Tom said, adding "father" for emphasis. The man backed away – he looked helpless. "You took away her land, her money, her possessions – her happiness..." the young Dark Lord said. The man stared at him in disbelief before it dawned on him. Of course, a month before she told him, they had gone to bed...and the kid looked so much like her – her eyes and hair exactly. He glanced at the floor.  
  
"Where is she now?" he muttered, though with the air of someone uninterested, just making polite conversation.  
  
"She died in childbirth," the sixteen year old seethed. To say his father was unmoved was an understatement.  
  
"Well, she was a witch – good riddance," the man said lightly. His son glared at him, and his mouth upturned in a cruel bitter smile. "When you see her, tell her – tell her I love her," he said softly, grasping the wand within a pocket in his robes. He deftly pulled it out, fingering the wand and smiling. He didn't want to kill his father, but what difference did it make? His mother was dead as well, and she was the only one he cared about. His father was the ignorant idiot who still maintained medieval beliefs about magic.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!" Tom yelled into the night, feeling his power shoot out of the wand, illuminating everything in a blinding green flash of light. There was a rushing sound, like air blowing out of a tunnel, and he lowered his wand to his side. His father fell flat on his back. His face was twisted into a gruesome expression – of shock, and more prominently, of being betrayed. Tom glanced at his father's face in confusion – betrayal? Of what? Not knowing his other wife was pregnant? That his son was a wizard?  
  
He heard the whirr of police cars in the distance – just as he saw the flashing red and blue lights outside the window, he dissapparated, having newly gotten his license.  
  
The present-day Voldemort sighed – it was so long ago, yet he remembered it as if it were yesterday. He smiled grimly; he had never known his mother – if only the painting of her could talk like those in the magical world – except hers was done in muggle paints by a muggle hand.  
  
His mother was the chief woman in his life, the one who he sought comfort and support from, even if none was to be had.  
  
As far as he knew, it was his mother's mother who sent him the letter months ago – it seemed like years ago when he was standing in Dumbledore's office. And now they were to all meet again at the Leaky Cauldron. For what? He didn't see a point to this – she would undoubtedly chose Snape or Draco. Somehow he knew that when she did, even if he threatened the well- being of her family and other loved ones, she'd stick with her marriage; it'd be pointless. And well, he didn't like to admit it, but he felt kind of bad for her in a way – it was just, well she seemed so young and innocent – and cheerful. No matter who she chose, Snape or Draco, it went without saying that the happiness would be sucked out her life as efficiently as it was sucked out of his mother's life. No one should have to go through that. But people did. All the time.  
  
So he'd go only to get rejected – just like he expected. The same thing happened many years ago – back in his third year when he asked out a fourth year by the name of Minerva McGonagall – with her flowing chestnut hair....She just turned up her nose at him, said "I'm sorry, but my answer's no" and went away... He laughed now, thinking of what she had become – a strict old witch who taught Transfiguration, head of Gryffindor house, Headmistress...he wondered if she remembered.  
  
He checked his watch – a Mickey Mouse watch, oddly enough. Sure, it didn't suit him at all, a child's watch (he had it on the last hole and it was still tight), but he had gotten it from the elderly nurse in the muggle orphanage, who had become his confidant when the muggle children made fun of him for his name, for the odd spells when he lost control of his magic, for his small height...it was his twelfth year birthday present and he treasured it still. Only good care kept it alive after all these years. And no one would see it as he wore long sleeves.  
  
It was time to go. He dissapparated for the Leaky Cauldron. 


	6. Marriage

So everyone was seated glumly around a table at the Leaky Cauldron; Dumbledore and Hermione on one side, Voldemort, Snape, and Draco on the other. Of course as soon as they had apparated outside and walked into its midst, numerous customers had ran out screaming. Hermione watched them leaving, startled at the customers pushing by her. Dumbledore looked disappointed, and Snape and Draco looked somewhat amused. Voldemort however appeared unmoved by anything; he was leaning moodily against the wall to his right, an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
Madam Rosmerta was cleaning mugs; she had looked up in surprise at hearing the doors bang open, and looked up, dropping the mug on the floor in the process. Luckily an unbreakable charm was cast on the glass...she watched the rest of her customers leave and sighed. They had every right to be running away; she would have herself, if she did not feel bound to serve her customers, regardless of who they might be.  
  
She turned and approached their table, holding a notepad in one hand, a quill in the other. She had served Dumbledore, Draco, Hermione, and even Snape numerous times before - but that was it. Odd group it was though, she had to admit.  
  
"Good evening, gentlemen, lady," she said stiffly. "Will you be ordering anything?"  
  
"Butterbeer," Hermione responded. Draco nodded eagerly.  
  
"A Shirley Temple, if you don't mind," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling behind the spectacles.  
  
"Firewhisky," Snape barked.  
  
"And you sir?" she said, trying to make eye contact with Voldemort, who had his hood down, and she attempted a cheerful smile.  
  
"Just coffee," he growled. He wasn't in the mood for alcohol like the other people seated at the table.  
  
"Alright, it'll just be a moment then," Rosmerta said, and went behind the counter, glad to leave the gloomy table. She came back moments later with their drinks, set it by their places, and collected the bill; three galleons and six sickles from Dumbledore before returning to washing mugs.  
  
Snape took a draught from his glass, while Voldemort sipped a little. He was in a dreary mood; once again setting himself up for being rejected. No girl would go out with him, let alone choose him as a husband, and he was all too aware of the reasons. No one wanted a slimy, pasty-looking mass- murdering psychopath for their spouse. It was the image he had created for himself for the public, although few knew the personality that lay beneath his cold forbidding exterior. Snape was doing much the same; he saw Hermione as choosing Draco; she wouldn't of course, choose Voldemort by a long shot. Similiarly, Draco had always prided himself on being able to get girls based on his family status, power, riches, looks, grades, and other features, but these qualities meant he'd attract shallow girls who would desert him in a moment if they found out he wasn't all that great – Hermione would definitely choose Snape – she was smart enough to know he was more than just an ex-professor – as to Voldemort, he knew that was the last person on earth she'd pick to be her man.  
  
Dumbledore drank his Shirley temple, holding his pinky in the air. He set it down and glanced at Hermione sitting next to him.  
  
"Well, Hermione? I've given you three months exact to make your decision – I find time always helps me think things over; it was certainly helpful while deciding whether or not to hold the Triwizard Tournament, wouldn't you agree? Ah yes, I'm getting off track. I've arranged for a possible marriage in the church in Hogsmeade, if it is desired – so who have you chosen as your life-partner?"  
  
Hermione breathed deeply; she was aware of four sets of eyes on her – twinkling blue eyes behind the spectacles, steel gray eyes looking at her as if preparing themselves for something – rejection perhaps, icy black tunnel-like eyes seemingly looking uncaring, indifferent towards her, but lighted with curiosity...and a pair of red eyes – the eyes she would be gazing in for the rest of her life – first thing she would see when she woke up in the morning, and the last thing before she went to sleep at night – red eyes that currently stared at her – what was it? In a flashing instant before he recovered his cold exterior, it looked like – longing and sadness – a hint of crushed hope and a slight flicker of regret – once she got past the cold red exterior, it was like looking into his inner soul ...it was so hard to describe his feelings in words and even then she knew she was failing...  
  
She didn't know what she was doing with her life, or why she'd made this choice in the first place. Once Harry found out he'd be devastated. Not to mention the alarmed reactions much, if not all, of the wizarding world would have...well, for now, she'd see how the owners of the four pairs of eyes on her would react...  
  
She opened her mouth and closed it. Was this really what she wanted? There was still a good soul beneath the cruel exterior formed over more than half a century...she could see that just looking into his eyes...  
  
"I'm marrying Tom Riddle," she said firmly, just like a Gryffindor. And a smile grew on her face – Dumbledore was unmoved as always – no doubt he had probably foreseen this or something...Snape looked as if he had been slapped in the face, and both of Draco's eyebrows shot up into his hair, his mouth a perfect 'o.' Neither of their reactions matched that of the man in question; he looked shocked, to say the least – he jolted, and sat up straight, staring at her wide-eyed, an eyebrow raised as if in question to what his ears perceived. His mouth was gaping open; he was speechless.  
  
Snape opened his mouth to protest. She couldn't do this. No. Not after all he had done for the Order – countless spy missions, saving Potter's petty life, putting up with Black, and now all of that would be in vain. He knew all too well that if Granger married his master, the Dark Lord would have a permanent link to the side of Light, and would undoubtedly obtain information about all they had been working for ...all it took was three drops of Veritaserum and Granger would be spouting out everything...even if said master was sitting right next to him, he didn't care. He had to change the Know-It-All's mind about this, even if it meant a Cruciatrius or his life.  
  
"Miss Granger – you do realize you can't do this; if you do, you're as good as stabbing your dear friend Potter in the back. Marrying the Dark Lord means you're going against all that that annoying brat has ever done for your ungrateful turncoat hide; if you carry through with this, no doubt the Dark Lord will be informed through you of valuable information pertaining to the movements of Potter, the Order, Dumbledore, the Ministry, and the Aurors, resulting in a possible downside to the side of Light. Hell – you're going against your own values, Miss Granger – against everything you've ever held close to your heart, Gryffindor as it is; your muggleborn heritage, muggle family, /friends/; you would turn against all of that in a second?" Snape said, desperately trying to hold on to his patience, and make his point clear to the infuriating woman across the table from him without pissing off his lord as well.  
  
Dumbledore nodded his agreement. Draco looked confused beyond all comprehension; he looked bewildered, and struggling to grasp on to the meaning of the words his ears were picking up. He caught names, but couldn't piece together all the startling new information shot at him from both the mudblood and his Head of House.  
  
"How can you be so sure of what will happen? You have only seen one part to a many-sided man; there are many other faces that he has, even though he doesn't bother showing you. And don't forget, I believe I had a choice in the matter as to who I would pick. Don't be offended Snape, as ultimately my choice is in your best interest, as well as my husband's," Hermione answered indignantly.  
  
"I had always thought you to be the clever know-it-all, yet your logic is worse than Longbottom's. Miss Granger, marry that man and you're throwing all that away, and your happiness, your friendships, your sanity, identity, innocence, and eventually your life will be thrown away as well. I for one do not see how you can choose so rashly," Snape sneered.  
  
Voldemort was furious at Snape's perception of him; he backhanded Snape, causing him to fall into the table, knocking himself out. Had he been himself, he would, of course, had cast a Cruciatrius on Snape for speaking so rashly and bluntly – so boldly against him; hell, for speaking against him in the first place. As it was, he was stuck sitting across from Dumbledore, the girl had actually agreed to marry him, which he had never foresaw, and the wife he would be marrying in less than an hour was sitting across from him, arguing with his Death Eater. His mind was lost as to why she decided to marry him given their past. He had tortured her, threatened her life, tried to kill her best friend, called her mudblood, killed people she was close to, people of her heritage and background, and still she wanted to marry him. He had heard of Gryffindors being brave, stupid, and forgiving, but this was insane. And he knew she wasn't stupid, which just made it more confusing.  
  
Dumbledore finally spoke.  
  
"Well then, I'll leave the happy couple to it; so everything is settled. This is most unexpected, but it should turn out interesting no less. Come Draco; and bring Snape with you; I'm not so sure it's wise to wake him after he's been knocked out from a semi-drunk state," he said, smiling like the senile wizard he was, and gesturing for Hermione to move so he could leave.  
  
Hermione stood up and stood some distance from the table. Even now, she wasn't so sure what she was doing. Dumbledore left with Draco, who was suspending Snape with a simple Levitating spell. Once they were out of sight, Voldemort rose from his seat and came to Hermione's side, not knowing what to say; his thoughts were whirring inside his head, regrouping and dividing and twisting out of shape and appearing and vanishing and turning like so many gears in a machine; those four words, "I'm marrying Tom Riddle," and then she had stood up for him in front of one of his death eaters; it was confusing. Why did she want him? And how was her marrying him ultimately in Snape's best interest as well as his? What did she have to gain from this marriage? How was she so sure that there were many faces to him – that the Lord Voldemort was only one part of him?  
  
Not knowing what to do, he followed Hermione, walking a step behind her and to the side, not knowing how his life was about to change.  
  
Neither said a word, or came closer than a meter of each other. Hermione followed Dumbledore's directions from the letter he gave the Sunday before and made it in front of the church.  
  
She didn't know why she was doing this, yet she was, and she had no idea what would happen. Normally before planning something, she'd plot out the how – how she'd do it, why she'd do it, and she'd consult books to check on it, and consider all the possibilities. This felt so unlike her – anything else in the past. But then again, she had considered all the possibilities – kill herself, which she didn't want to do, kill all three 'suitors,' which while would make Harry and Ron happy, she'd end up in Azkaban and she didn't want to be a murderer. And she decided why she'd do it the night before; to try and make a change in the wizarding world, to make people see the world wasn't just black and white but so many shades of gray. And how – well, she'd just work that out as it came along. A lot of improv, but she didn't know what else to do. There were too many variables and factors in what she was planning to do to write out the steps. As to books – well she was doing something completely different than the norm, wasn't she? If anything, when all this was over, if it would be over, she'd be the one writing the books.  
  
Now that she looked at it, her plan was a bit far-fetched, a bit ambitious, unrealistic. But for now, she saw just taking it one step at a time...and only continuing on to the next step if the first one was accomplished. Before the wizarding world joined in unity, Harry and Voldemort had to accept each other and form a friendship. Before that happened, they had to be acquaintances. Before that was a truce agreeing not to kill each other. Before that was Voldemort agreeing to this because of her word. Before that was him loving her. Before that was forming a relationship with Voldemort where he cared about her. Before that was marrying him. And speaking of marrying him, here they were; right outside the wooden arched doors, set in the marbled church wall. She pushed the door open and out of politeness held it for Voldemort; he took his time walking through; she had no idea whether he was doing this to annoy her, physically weak, didn't want this and was savoring bachelorhood, or if going through churches hurt him for some reason...it wouldn't surprise her though; he was as close to a demon as demons get.  
  
He was walking behind her but came to her side; they still had a space of about three feet between them though, despite the fact that they were in a church about to get married. Hermione walked around a bit before finding the priest praying to the Virgin Mary in a room off the main one. She waited until he was done, and asked him if he could marry her to her fiancé. He nodded and came into the main room with her; they found Voldemort in the middle, idly surveying the stained-glass windows and altar, however he came over seeing Hermione back with the priest.  
  
The priest saw Voldemort and backed away holding up a silver crucifix. Voldemort tried to hide a smile; the priest was acting like he was a vampire or something...then again, he did look like one...sort of.  
  
The priest, a short balding man with a comb-over, came to Hermione, shaking, and spoke to her in frightened whispers, "He's here! It's him! You- Know-Who! Where's the aurors when you need them? Get out your wand – I'm only a squib!"  
  
Voldemort heard his whispering however; he started cackling...ah, such a stupid priest. If he could, he'd kill the priest on the spot, but he needed his services if he was to be wed. Maybe afterwards...ah, but Hermione would get upset. Not that he cared. But the Daily Prophet would find out if a man was killed by Avada Kedavra in Hogsmeade...the last thing he wanted was having the press find out about him and the mudblood getting married.  
  
Once Hermione reassured the priest that it was ok, that yes, she was marrying You-Know-Who, yes, she knew who he was, no she was not high or Slytherin, the man, defeated, went to the altar, and gestured for Voldemort to stand by his side, although the poor priest looked as if he wanted to be any place but here.  
  
Hermione looked at the settings and frowned. Even if no people were present, she still wanted her marriage to be a little more than this. A little more festive. She brought out her hand and conjured a white carpet on the floor between the aisles, pink rose petals to lie on it, and white flowers and white candles by the altar; flowering vines with pretty white flowers winded around the rail separating the altar from the rest of the church, and candles lay on the floor, like a path, and hanging suspended in air five feet above the priest's and her husband's heads. She was dressed in a muggle white strapless wedding gown with pearls and beads and shimmery embroidery and lace worked into the dress; a formfitting bodice and a graceful full skirt that formed a train at the back; she wore a veil. Voldemort's robes were black, as usual, but a silky gleaming black, with draping sleeves and coming almost to the floor.  
  
The priest and Voldemort looked around; the priest smiled, while Voldemort merely glared at the white flowers and candles, and the rose petals on the floor and his wife in a muggle wedding dress...he was courteous enough, however, to soften his glare when he turned to face his wife, down the aisle from him.  
  
"It's your wedding, Tom," she said, as if that explained everything. And in a way it did. She waved her wand one last time before putting it in a secret pocket within her dress and Pachebel's Canon started up out of nowhere; a beautiful piano piece she remembered hearing at a neighbor's wedding she went to, before Hogwarts. The priest gestured for her to walk down the aisle, and she did...gracefully, walking to her doom, she knew, but behind the veil, wearing a wedding dress at last, wearing pearls in her ears and around her neck, walking in elegant strappy white sandals, holding a bouquet of white lilies, she felt like a princess. She had of course been complete in her spell, including the necessary wedding accessories, but she didn't bother with makeup or doing her hair; she'd get married as herself, not some unnatural form of herself plastered in beauty products. If men didn't like her looks, that was their problem.  
  
Walking to her doom; she saw Voldemort standing at the altar, getting ever closer...she didn't know why she kept on walking, but somehow she felt she had to do this. Not just for the wizarding world. Not just for her husband. But for herself.  
  
Neither took their eyes off each other; she had put up so many pretty festive decorations, but all she saw was his cold red eyes watching her descent down the aisle. It was only a minute or so, but it felt like forever...  
  
Voldemort was watching her...he had been single all his life and now he was to marry her...he had never expected getting married...sure when he was a small child he might have thought of his future once or twice, maybe seen himself settling down and having a family, but by the time he went to Hogwarts, he had his mind up that he wanted more in life...and he got oh so much more. And now it was like going in reverse back to that childhood dream after becoming something very close to what he fantasized about while just a Hogwarts student. Still...marrying her of all people...had he known when they had met each other, when she had been dragged into a battle by Potter, and had to fight his Death Eaters...or when he saw visions of Potter, he was often with her or some redhead...and now she was his soon-to- be wife, walking down the aisle; she looked a little nervous, a little reluctant and not sure of herself, but overall she seemed determined in a way...she had a purposeful stride.  
  
She came to the altar, by his side, and the music died down. They were still standing about three feet apart, neither wanting to intrude on the precious space...  
  
The priest opened the Bible and read the selection for marriage....Hermione was paying attention to every word, and as she looked over, she was surprised that Voldemort was too.  
  
Finally the priest came to the end...  
  
"You sir, do you take Hermione Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife, until death do you part?" the priest asked.  
  
Voldemort looked startled at being addressed so politely, or maybe it was the mention of his future wife, or parting at death...or a combination of the three. He nodded and in his high cold voice hissed, "I do."  
  
Hermione looked at him as if he had grown an extra arm...she had never expected those words to be directed at her from Lord Voldemort, resident Dark Lord, Heir of Slytherin...said person merely flashed her a nasty smile. The priest turned to her.  
  
"Ma'm, do you take Tom Marvolo Riddle to be your lawfully wedded man, until death do you part?"  
  
Hermione looked transfixed with something close to horror as she uttered the two words that would change her life forever. "I do," she whispered.  
  
"I now pronounce you wizard and wife. You may now kiss the bride," the priest said.  
  
Hermione's eyebrows shot up at 'kiss;' surely she wouldn't have to? But then, she was getting married...she hardly noticed as Voldemort slid the gold band on her finger, and she slid it on hers – rings the priest had received earlier that day from Dumbledore.  
  
Voldemort looked at her; she was too young for this; he was so much older, and it just wasn't right...but why was he clamming up now? Why was his morals showing up now, of all times? He had done much worse things to girls even younger than her...  
  
It was to be perhaps, the first kiss in his life...he couldn't remember the last time kissing someone or being kissed in return.  
  
He reached out his hand and slowly lifted the veil covering her face, pulling it back, exposing her face. He cupped his hand around the back of her head, and his other arm he brought around her waist, pulling her to him, closing the three-foot distance. He raised his eyebrows slightly as if to say "Well?," never removing his eyes from her petrified face. Tom leaned closer to her, and sealed his lipless mouth on her glossed parted lips. Her pupils contracted before returning to their normal size, and surprisingly, she deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around him. Later she wouldn't know why she did it...it just felt so right...  
  
At last they broke free, needing to breathe. Nothing could be heard except each other's heavier-than-normal breathing...  
  
"What did I just do?" Hermione asked, as if trying to assure herself that it wasn't true.  
  
"You married me, of all people," Voldemort said, amused at her reaction. 


	7. New House

Hermione stepped back from him, as if suddenly realizing what she had done...she looked down at her wedding dress, at the gold ring on her finger, and on his...  
  
She upturned her chin, looking into his red, snake-like eyes, in a reptilian pale face, she saw what she had done. She had signed herself off to the Dark Lord...she was now completely in his power...bound to him. And him to her. Magical marriages created a bond, a sacred bond until death, bridging both souls. Which among many things, meant divorce was not possible. Once you were married, that was it. You're done. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by his high cold hiss cutting across the silence.  
  
"Would you please change out of that ridiculous thing?" he said, glaring at the wedding dress in distaste. Hermione and her lip thinned, uncannily like McGonagall's.  
  
"For crying out loud! It's our wedding night! We should be celebrating! I've fantasized about my future marriage ever since I was six!" Hermione near shouted.  
  
She knew all too well, however, that Voldemort was not someone she desired to be angry at her...even if it was something as frivolous as her wedding dress. His lip curled in a sneer.  
  
"Oh, do shut up," he said irritably, and waved his wand; her dress disappeared, leaving her in the jeans, sneakers, and white shirt she was wearing originally...even the flowers, veil, wedding shoes, and pearl necklace she had conjured for herself were gone. Everything, except the gold wedding band.  
  
"You're impossible," Hermione grumbled under her breath; it was eerie how often she had said the exact same thing to Harry or Ron when they questioned her studying habits or went on about Quidditch...  
  
He smirked and grasped her hand; moments later they appeared outside an old stone – well, she didn't know what to call it – it was bigger than a house, bigger than what she supposed the Malfoy Manor would look like, but it was smaller than a castle...an old stone drafty, forbidding looking place complete with a tower, a rusty iron fence, overgrown vines and ivy choking the sides, and evidence of Gothic architecture in dragon gargoyles running water off the roof and the sloped archway leading to the front door. A dead leaf-less yew tree stood in the front yard, competing with the tower for height, and flanked by several spidery-looking trees. The grass in the yard was overgrown; it looked like an abandoned field. The overall effect was a dark, mysterious, unwelcoming presence looming over the...well, nothing stood for miles. It may have been a beautiful place once, but it looked run- down now...the windows were cracked, the paint peeling off the door and shutters.  
  
She glanced at him; he looked as sinister as the house; scaly alabaster skin, gleaming red snake eyes, a flat snake-like nose with slits for nostrils, a lip-less mouth and fangs, long fingernails, bald, hairless, about two meters tall, thin, dressed in – she noted with pride, the black robes she had construed for him, which now only seemed to serve to make him look more menacing.  
  
His red eyes glinted at fury and his lip was twisted in a snarl, but he didn't seem angry at her...he was glaring at the house as if it had offended him.  
  
"Where are we?" Hermione said in a hushed tone, running her hand through her bushy brunette hair in confusion. This place looked just like the type of place to pop out of the classic Gothic novels she had read over the long summers between years at Hogwarts...Dracula, for one, and Frankenstein in the early movie. It was like a haunted house....only it was bigger than a house – either a very big mansion or quite a small castle.  
  
"My mother's home...back when she was a child. By the looks of things the inhabitants have been dead for years," he said in a strange voice...Hermione couldn't quite place his tone, being unused to the high cold hiss...most of what she knew of him she had read in textbooks, the Daily Prophet, or heard about from Harry, Snape, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Ron, the Order, the Malfoys, and what was left of the Marauders...the ones who's lives he had touched most closely, and allowed to live. For the time being. She pushed these dark thoughts out of her head.  
  
He sounded distressed, if anything, by the emptiness of the house.  
  
Hermione rested a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Should we go to the Riddle House?" she asked. She remembered hearing about it from Harry describing his visions...Voldemort's father's last home, apparently.  
  
He picked her hand up, as if it was something disgusting, and tossed it off his shoulder, shrugging. Hermione frowned in distaste; it was just the sort of thing  
  
"It's been burned down. 'Probably have your bloody friend Dumbledore to thank for that," he said.  
  
She followed him inside. It was just as bad inside; cold drafts came in through the thin walls, the rugs, tapestries, couches, and chairs were all moth-eaten and threadbare, covered in mildew, the wooden furniture was warped with water, stained and scarred, cobwebs hung between furniture and the walls or in corners, everything coated in gray dust, puddles of water, and a fungus smell.  
  
"What happened to the place?" Hermione asked in a small voice, looking around.  
  
"I'd think even you would notice water damage when they saw it," he drawled.  
  
"Well yeah – but this place hardly looks," Hermione paused. She was about to say 'livable' but she knew that would anger him. It was his mother's house, after all.  
  
"Looks what? Finish your sentence, woman!" He scoffed.  
  
"...like home," Hermione added lamely.  
  
"It was my mom's home, and I advise you don't speak ill of it again, unless you wish to be on the receiving end of an Unforgivable," Voldemort hissed dangerously, an octave lower than usual. Hermione stared at his wand; she knew he wouldn't hesitate to Crucio her...or worse things.  
  
He ran his finger along a vase, covering the tip of his index in dust which he wiped on a handkerchief in his robes.  
  
"Nothing a little magic can't fix," he said, more to himself than anything. "Of course that'll have to wait until morning..."  
  
"And just where are we supposed to sleep?" Hermione said indignantly, tossing her curls back, crossing her arms.  
  
His head turned slowly towards her, and a smirk spread across his face; an expression Hermione didn't like at all, considering the question she had just asked and how many ways he might have interpreted it.  
  
He nodded and looked around, before walking out the door, around into another room, into another, and effectively making a circle around the house ending up where they started.  
  
"I loved the tour but I'm kinda tired," Hermione said. He rolled his eyes.  
  
"Shut up!" he snapped. "I've only been here once – you think I'd know everything by heart?"  
  
Voldemort paced the floor, his cloak swishing about him, before he stopped and nodded to himself. He approached the full length mirror in the far corner in the room and stared into it. At first glance it was just his reflection, but once he got past that, it was like looking into another room. He stuck his hand through it and the mirror's frame enlargened into a doorway. He nodded and gestured for Hermione to come over. She stared curiously at the mirror before coming through also.  
  
The mirror was an enchanted passageway into another part of the house, which was – well, beautiful. It looked untouched at all by age or water or dust, but brand new, clean, and well-taken care of. It was a bit empty though – it looked vacant, as if whoever was there had moved their belongings, or as if they were sold once the last remaining member in the household died. Only the most basic furniture remained, and a few paintings and tapestries cursed to the wall, just like the portrait of Sirius' mother hanging in what was now Harry's home.  
  
The walls were Gothic stone, the floors an ornate wooden pattern, glossed over...  
  
Voldemort knitted his eyebrows together, seeing the completely different atmosphere of the house-within-a-house. The stairs were to his right, next to Hermione...beautiful white marble stairs with an ebony railing, spiraling up into the rest of the house. The house seemed almost like the man himself, in a way...it was fitting. A cold, forbidding exterior, and once you got past that, a warm, friendly interior, only missing certain aspects...it was like viewing his heart – he had set up a stone shell around himself, but within he was a man lacking something from life...  
  
He rudely swept past Hermione, going up the stairs, waiting for her at the top. Hermione mentally remarked how his mood kept shifting – of course she had mood swings as well, but he was no longer the surly teen he had once been – she had only been with him for about two hours, and he had shifted from shock to confusion to near-charming, to civil, to a bastard. For a man whose reputation was built on power, cold unfeeling power, he certainly held a lot of emotion, if that could be blamed for the mood swings.  
  
Sure enough, he stopped at the top of the stairs, tapping his foot irritably in wait for her. Once Hermione reached the top step, he went off down the hallway, looking in the various rooms, until he found the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. He walked in, and stared back at Hermione, raising an eyebrow as if in question.  
  
It was a huge room for sure, complete with a queen size bed, a walk-in closet, a side-bathroom, candle sconces, a fireplace surrounded by paintings, bedside tables, a fluffy carpet, a vanity stand, desk, and chests of drawers. A lone chair stood in the corner....it would have been beautiful, if it wasn't so drab-colored by the same gray dust that covered the first part of the house...it wasn't water damaged, but it looked as if it hadn't been used in more than half a century...which Hermione guessed to be true. It also had a lot more furniture than the rest of the house, as if the owner had forgotten about this room when signing their will. A South- facing window brought in only the moon's light now, but in daylight it would bring in bright rays of sunlight.  
  
Hermione looked around...it looked abandoned, forgotten. Dust and cobwebs coated everything; she couldn't tell what color everything was, particularly in this light.  
  
"So much dust," she muttered, running her finger over the frame of a painting by the door and finding dust caked on her fingertip.  
  
Voldemort turned around sharply, almost as if forgetting she was here.  
  
"I trust you know the most common house-keeping spells?" he said, raising his eyebrows, as if he seriously doubted it...he looked her over, as if skeptical a muggle-born would know.  
  
"Of course I do – I don't know about you, but I don't plan on sleeping in dust," Hermione scoffed, pulling out her wand. Voldemort watched her out of the corner of his eye and pulled out his as well. In sync they performed the Dusting spell at once. A glowing sphere of white light radiated from the tip of each of their wands, combining into one great white sphere, sweeping down the walls in the room; dust and cobwebs vanished from everywhere its glowing light reached. Hermione waved her wand once and the candle sconces were instantly lit. At last, when the room was spotless, the sphere dissipated. The room was lit – it was beautiful, just like Hermione knew it would – a fluffy black carpet, black sheets lined with silver, dark mahogany furniture, and the white marble fireplace with touches of gray, lined by portraits of what looked like the man's ancestors....on his mom's side, of course. Of all portraits, his mother's was absent from the wall, Hermione noticed with a sinking feeling of regret. Voldemort, however, was uninterested in the portraits – he was staring around, as if examining their dusting job.  
  
"It works a lot better with two spell casters...." Voldemort remarked. Many things were like that in magic, as well as just plain life.  
  
"One of the many advantages of choosing a life partner," Hermione said.  
  
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "To perform anti-dust spells?"  
  
"And other things," Hermione said without thinking.  
  
Both of his eyebrows shot up at her, and he glanced at the bed, and back at her. It was all too clear what was on his mind. Hermione looked at him, unsettled by this news. It was more than she bargained for in marriage...one of the factors she had overlooked.  
  
"I'll be sleeping in a guest bedroom, if you don't mind," Hermione said, trying her best to smile politely and back out of the room. It didn't work; he grabbed her arm, hauling her back into the room.  
  
"We're married," he hissed. "Last time I recall, the wedded couple sleeps in the same room, not across the house."  
  
Hermione blinked. He was right. Last time she recalled too.  
  
She nodded and walked into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her with a charm of her own invention; she didn't trust the old lock that could be easily forced. She stripped down and conjured a pale pink tank top, underwear, and white shorts, not having her pajamas with her. It was too hot to sleep in anything else. She conjured a toothbrush and got ready for bed, including a quick shower. When she walked out carrying her day clothes, He went in when she came out, and she folded her clothes and put them on the seat of the chair in the corner, put her socks in her shoes, and set them neatly on the floor.  
  
At last he came out, wearing a loose black tunic and a pair of loose black boxer shorts he had obviously transfigured his robe into; only his shoes were thrown on the floor. Hermione had done a drying charm on her hair; otherwise it took hours for her bushy hair to dry.  
  
Hermione came over to the side of the bed, which looked a lot better now that it wasn't covered in dust. She carefully placed her wand on the bed table, following his example. He walked over to the other side and flung himself in the middle of the bed, taking up far too much space; Hermione scooted to the edge but he caught her in a vice-like grip on her arm to tug her on the bed. His strength was too much; Hermione soon found herself underneath his weight.  
  
She tried to scream but he clasped a pale hand over her mouth.  
  
"I'm sure you're aware that we haven't consummated our marriage?" Voldemort hissed so close to her she could feel his breath grazing her ear. She bit his hand and he jerked it away.  
  
"A couple doesn't have to if they don't want to these days," Hermione said in a strained voice, thinking of the story her mother told of how she and her father met and got married.  
  
He rolled his eyes; she was pinned beneath him.  
  
"Ah, that would be true if you were muggle. However, witch that you are, you are bound to the traditions of our society...one of which is the medieval practice of finalizing marriage...which is considered necessary to complete the bonding of the two souls," he paused, surveying Hermione's eyes which were locked on his in horror. "There are two ways we can do this," he continued. "The easy way or the hard way."  
  
Hermione tried to wrestle herself out of his reach, but suddenly found she couldn't move her arms; her wrists and ankles were tightly manacled by iron bands and chains to the bed, leaving her spread on her back, facing him spread-eagle, unable to move. Her eyes swiveled in their sockets, wide-eyed as he reached down to tear her tank top off her body. 


	8. First Morning

Hermione tried to scream...even if she had Gryffindor bravery, this was too much...she remembered the sorting hat wanting to put her in Ravenclaw and she reflected if she was placed in such a house, she probably wouldn't be as close to Harry and Voldemort would therefore not want her for his wife...and...she tried to shift out of his reach, anything...she tried to yell enough to alert someone, forgetting there was no one for miles around...but she couldn't make a sound – all that came out was a choking noise from the back of her throat.  
  
He ripped off her pink tank top and threw it across the floor... 'I won't be able to wear that again' Hermione thought briefly, before shutting the thought out of her mind...she knew as well as Harry did about Voldemort's Legilimency powers through their last encounter at the end of sixth year – as far as invading minds, he could give Dumbledore a run for his money on that...hell, on just about everything... That last thought...it was almost as if she was supporting him over Dumbledore...a scary thought indeed. What if she were to be the one to bring the rest of the Wizarding world down to the dark side. She found herself staring with horror at the hideous monster on top of her, now pulling his own shirt – his black tunic – over his ugly head.  
  
Hermione winced in disgust...she had never been anything like Lavender or Parvati as far as being guy-crazy or even noticing a guy as 'hot,' but...ugh. Voldemort's chest was so thin – he didn't have the starved appearance with ribs showing, and he had no fat on him, but no muscle either – he wasn't filled out at all, just a long, flat, clammy-looking pasty torso with a few wispy black hairs...  
  
She wasn't that beautiful either – on the short side, with hair so bushy a comb would break if she ran one through it, and she wasn't very curvy, but at least she didn't look like an insult to mankind...  
  
He reached down to tear off her white shorts and underwear...she couldn't take this anymore...this losing her virginity to not Harry like she had dreamed once, but to this psychopath...she had set out to demolish hate in the wizarding world, to break down the barriers, but she hadn't thought of this...if she had remembered this bit about marriage, she would have definitely chose Draco...or at least Snape, over this walking 44 Magnum...she hated him...no, he couldn't – she couldn't...  
  
He threw her torn shorts and underwear over his shoulder, and pulled his boxer shorts off, putting those aside his tunic at the foot of the bed.  
  
She tried to scream again, but he sealed off any sound from her mouth immediately with a simple silencing charm she couldn't break through...  
  
"There will be none of that unnecessary noise...you don't want me to go deaf, do you?" he said coldly. Hermione wanted to nod 'yes,' but that would only make matters worse...right now she wasn't in a position to anger him...literally.  
  
Hermione mouthed 'no' over and over again, as she was unable to speak...anything but this...she was a child still – she still held her innocence, and valued it...and now that was all going to end - this couldn't be happening...  
  
She looked into his unfeeling snake-slit red eyes...and froze - for the love of all things holy, he was grinning – a toothy grin had spread across his hideous face, like a small child holding twenty bucks in a candy store.  
  
She struggled against her bonds, tried to wrench her arms out, pull the bonds off the bed, anything – she wouldn't mind losing her hands – the hands she had wrote down so much research and notes with, the hands she had cast all the spells she had learned with...if she could be free of this terror taking place...she struggled and wrenched on the chains, tried to turn over, but....  
  
And soon enough, it was all over.  
  
At least he had 'cut to the chase' instead of playing with her.  
  
It was all over. She was a woman now. Their marriage was final. She was no longer a virgin...  
  
Once he had finished with her, he had been 'kind' enough to vanish the chains and bonds. And he had put his boxers and tunic back on, and retreat to his side of the bed. But he refused to hand her her clothes – her clothes which were completely ruined. He said he liked her better like that, than in 'those damn muggle things.' The error in his logic, was he was wearing 'those damn muggle things' as well, and he refused to conjure her a robe or something.  
  
Gladly, Hermione got off the bed, exhausted though she was from getting married, all the stress, and struggling against the iron bonds, which were now non-existent. So she got off the bed naked, fully aware of his eyes on her. Oh, how she hated the man, she thought, as she grabbed her wand off the bedside table.  
  
She needed someone to practice a particularly nasty, painful Defense against the Dark Arts technique Harry taught her...oh how she wished she could try it on Voldemort right now...  
  
She walked across the room, repairing the tank top she found by the door and the shorts she found on the dresser, and slipped the tank top on. She searched for her underwear, trying to ignore his amused eyes on her, until she found it hanging off the mirror on the vanity stand – she repaired the rip in it as well and slipped her pajamas back on.  
  
The bastard.  
  
She came back to bed at last, fully dressed, and settled down on her side of the bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin and budging as far as possible to the edge of the bed without falling over.  
  
At least he didn't say anything, didn't do anything to aggravate her further...just let her lie in peace. Or ignore her – whichever it was – as long as she was alone...  
  
Exhausted as she was from the eventful day, she couldn't fall asleep...she kept thinking of their marriage, of what it really meant, about why she chose him in the first place, if it was worth it, if what she wanted from this marriage could ever be achieved....she didn't fall asleep until three.  
  
The next morning, she awoke late – around ten – it may be early for some people, but for one who usually got up with the sun, it felt like noon to her. She had been sleeping in a fetal position on her side, but rolled to her back. Voldemort was nowhere to be found – no doubt out killing or torturing someone or holding a Death Eater meeting...she conjured a light cotton bathrobe and slippers on her feet and looked around, wondering where he went. She didn't have to look far; a trail of wet footsteps came from the bathroom back to his side of the bed and out the door. A faint amused smile came to her lips and she walked through the layers of dust lining the floor, following the wet footsteps in the dust.  
  
At eight, Voldemort was downstairs in the kitchen in his boxers and tunic – it was only after he reached the kitchen and looked behind him did he notice that walking around with wet feet on a dusty floor wasn't such a good idea; he picked his foot up to see the sole of his foot covered in a thick layer of gray dust. His lip curled in a sneer as he vanished the dust off his feet. He conjured a menacing black robe and boots on himself, and dissapparated. He appeared moments later in a dark gloomy Scandinavian castle that served as little more than a meeting place, torturing chambers, and holding prisoners in the dungeons. He didn't really like the place – it was old, and crumbling apart faster than magic could heal it up. Scandinavia was cold and wet most of the year, and the occasional tour group heading into his headquarters only made it worse. It would have been the perfect castle, if it weren't for the climate, the fact that it was falling apart, and the damned muggles touring around. He didn't go there that often – the only thing remaining of any importance was Sirius Black in the dungeons.  
  
Sirius Black, who hadn't been killed as previously thought, but merely put into a coma as his cousin had mispronounced the Killing curse – whether her nerves failed her or she had developed a lisp, Voldemort didn't know. In any case, if and when the man woke up, he would serve as valuable bait for Potter...a few visions ought to do it – to lure Potter here...he would do /anything/ for his dear godfather...  
  
But if Sirius was here, he'd probably starve to death, freeze to death, crushed to death, or trampled by eager Muggle tourists.  
  
Also, Voldemort knew he wouldn't be able to tell when he woke up if he didn't live there....so he vanished the rusty iron chains and iron band on the man's neck, held his arm, and dissapparated, appearing moments later in the basement of his mother's house, two floors below where his wife was sleeping.  
  
Quietly, as to not risk his wife waking up and finding out, Voldemort dragged Sirius down a cold stone un-lit passageway to a stone dungeon. He at last found a dungeon room crawling with rats; perfect, once Sirius woke up, he'd surely be /delighted/ to find reminders of his dear turncoat back- stabbing friend...not to mention the likeness to his childhood enemy's Potions classroom... In the middle of the stone dungeon was a rusty iron post with chains dangling off it, and on one end of the chains was a decaying skeleton...perfect. His mother's family as carriers of the Slytherin bloodline had always upheld the pureblood-mudblood racism and were known to occasionally hold prisoners...naturally Voldemort's mother, like Sirius, was against her dark family and was eventually ostracized and disowned. Voldemort chained Sirius with the remaining chains, and wandered back the way he came, ascending the cold stone stairs leading to a door on the main floor.  
  
No one would be able to tell the dungeon floor existed unless they knew where the entrance was – the door was disguised cleverly as a fire-lit torch in the wall – you had to put your hand through the fire to make the door operate, a feat few were willing to do for absolutely no reason.  
  
Voldemort went back to the kitchen and checked the Mickey Mouse watch he had had since his days in the muggle orphanage...9:30. He shrugged and looked around; she still hadn't gotten up yet...he conjured himself some tea and sat down to read the Daily Prophet his trusty black owl had stolen from Fudge, this time...instead of subscribing, which would eventually lead to his place of residence being discovered, he sent out an owl to steal the paper from different people...  
  
He scowled reading the front page. Apparently Dumbledore and the Order had been making plans, interfering with Fudge and his Aurors...all in the fight against him and his Death Eaters. All the politics. Everything was bloody confusing politics... At least Fudge was still his idiot self in denial of the Dark Lord returning, although Voldemort knew the Minister had seen him escape the Ministry more than two years ago. It felt so long ago, but it wasn't really...  
  
His bride chose that moment to come down the stairs. Biting her lip, glaring at him, her bushy hair electrified and frizzing everywhere, spots of pink on her cheeks from blood rushing to her head, tense with fierce energy; judging by the livid expression on her face, she was angry with him about something.  
  
She stopped in front of the table, crossing her arms over the lavender bathrobe she was wearing, staring at him expectantly.  
  
He seemed not to care; he scanned the article in the Daily Prophet and put his index finger to his mouth before turning the page, feet up on the table. He grabbed the cup of tea beside his place and took a sip before putting it back in its saucer.  
  
His wife sat herself across the table from him, seeing as he was ignoring her.  
  
She looked upset with him, but it wasn't like he cared...much. She would offer her services to him, as the filthy mudblood bitch she his food, clean his house, raise his kids, pour out information about Potter and the Order when necessary, and satisfy him whenever he felt the need – he could no longer rape anyone, as the wedding bond prevented that – she would be a combination house-elf and whore in one.  
  
Ah – yesterday he had played a game with her – act nice and charming towards her – nice and charming until the marriage, and civil until the marriage was official and unbreakable. Now she was entirely in his power.  
  
Little did she know any of this.  
  
But as he looked at her, he realized he couldn't do it...he couldn't hurt her. Not like this.  
  
It was looking into her eyes that he made this decision... he could tell so much just by looking into them, and without using legilimency...she was innocent, young, warm, she possessed strength and mentality beyond her years, and her personality...he couldn't do this to her. It would break her. She was perhaps the only one who didn't fear him, apart from Harry and Dumbledore – she was his wife, his bride. /Am I getting soft?/ passed his mind, but he shook it...it was just – she seemed angry at him this morning, no doubt, but she showed no fear of him, or uncertainty about the future – it was as if she was determined of something.  
  
She was angry with him though; he saw how tense she was, how she refused to say a word, keeping her lips tightly pursed together except when eating, he saw her downcast face.  
  
Hermione looked up, hearing her groom lowering the paper, sensing his searching gaze. She couldn't take this anymore....  
  
"What do you want?" she snapped, and left, not catching his eyebrows knitting together in worry.  
  
He found her later in the library, searching the shelves for a book to add to the tomes on a desk.  
  
He paused in the doorway, noting her sufficient job of carefully clearing the dust and everything by magic – it would take awhile, but no matter. He watched her for some time in silence, until she whirled around, finally aware of his presence – he noted with amusement how her tight curls swung around before rebounding back into place.  
  
"Hermione," he hissed, the name sounding strange in his high cold voice.  
  
It took all of Hermione's willpower not to blow up at him in anger.  
  
"I'm sorry," Voldemort whispered...it was mostly lip service, they both knew, but a small part of him felt guilty for what had transpired last night – for raping his wife.  
  
Hermione must have heard the bit of sincerity in his voice, for she relaxed. Knowing her goals for this marriage, all of which started with a loving relationship with him, she threw her arms around him in a hug, and kissed him on the cheek. His skin felt strange; foreign, under her lips; for some reason, the memory of kissing Harry on the cheek as they said their goodbyes at the end of fourth year came to mind. Voldemort was as cool and calm and ever; he didn't flinch, blush, or wrap his arms around her, but stood straight and still. When Hermione broke way, though, he spoke.  
  
"That was unexpected," he said hollowly. "One minute you're snapping at me, and the next you're kissing me."  
  
Hermione cringed inwardly; did he suspect her putting on an act already? She did some quick thinking, seeing him looking at her curiously, expecting an answer.  
  
"Even Dark Lords will never know how a woman's mind works," Hermione retorted. Merlin; Harry didn't know, Ron didn't know, Snape didn't know, Hagrid didn't know, Krum didn't know...poor simple-minded creatures, she thought, amused.  
  
Voldemort rolled his eyes, only to widen them in surprise a moment later, as if he just thought of something. He looked like he was trying to decide on something perplexing...  
  
"What is it?" Hermione said softly, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought and so anger him.  
  
He blinked, as if just remembering she was there.  
  
"Hermione," he said in a voice striving for gentleness, but was unaccustomed to it. "Do you realize that by marrying the Dark Lord, you are now the Dark Lady? Equal to me, but on the same side..."  
  
He studied her for a moment, before walking out. Hermione was shocked; did this mean what she thought it meant? ------------------------------------------ Voldemort went down to the stone dungeons to check on Sirius; nothing could happen to him, considering that he was to be bait for Harry. And indeed, Sirius was awake; he was very weak, but at least he was out of his coma.  
  
Sirius looked helpless and lost beyond words; he was staring at Voldemort with the blank look of someone who sees a vaguely familiar face but cannot place it. Voldemort cackled.  
  
"Ah, Sirius Black – awake at last. A long sleep for you, was it not?"  
  
"Where am I?" Sirius muttered thickly through the sheet of hair hanging in front of his face as he sat on the cold stone ground. "The last thing I recall is dueling my cousin in the Department of Mysteries..."  
  
Voldemort smirked.  
  
"Ah yes – dear Bella failed to pronounce the curse properly, so you were only put in a coma. Not to worry; I had Lucius instruct her in the three Unforgivables, so next time you two duel, she'll kill you for me."  
  
Sirius flexed against his bonds, but failed to wrench them off the wall like he wanted. He raised his head, glaring at Voldemort, although the look was diminished by having to glare up at Voldemort from the floor, and being so weak.  
  
"You're weak, Black," Voldemort hissed. He kicked Harry's godfather painfully in the side, where his kidneys were. Sirius inhaled sharply, but was too weak to flinch or fight back. "Harry misses you," Voldemort sneered. "I see visions of him – locked himself in his room, underfed, ignoring others – he's depressed. Weeping , cutting himself...all for his dear dog..."  
  
Sirius raised his eyebrows; he was worried – he hadn't thought about Harry...Voldemort conjured a bowl of thin soup and moldy bread, letting it fall two feet, landing rudely beside Sirius, far enough away that he'd have to stretch and strain himself to reach it – if he could.  
  
Voldemort turned to go, but stopped at the door.  
  
"I can't keep coming down here for you, Black. Perhaps two of my loyal, ever faithful servants would agree to feed you...Peter and Severus maybe? I'm sure they'd be /delighted/ to have your helpless self in their care...to have your life in their hands..."  
  
Sirius clenched his teeth tightly together and pulled and flexed violently against the bonds. Life as he knew it, would end shortly – down here in the dungeons, he'd suffer a humiliating death at Snape's hands...and there was nothing he could do about it. He fell down against the pillar he was chained to; suddenly he didn't feel so hungry.  
  
Little did he know that he was to be bait...and as such, Voldemort sent a vision to Harry...  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Harry was sulking in his room, flipping through the scrapbook of his parents, looking longingly at the best man Sirius...  
  
Suddenly his scar felt as if it was on fire, and he collapsed on the floor.  
  
Visions flashed before his eyes. Darkness. Matted long brown hair hiding a man's face. Fade to darkness. A chained hand slowly clenching into a fist and flexing back to its original form. Fade to darkness. A glimpse of highly-familiar eyes, that Harry couldn't place – once bright brown eyes, now dimmed and haunted and lacking their luster of life. Fade to darkness. Voldemort's high-pitched cold voice hissing "Peter and Severus...delighted...have your life in their hands." Darkness. A bright flash of Sirius sitting alone in the cell, chained to the pillar, flexing against his bonds half-heartedly. Darkness. Voldemort whispering "Sirius Black." Darkness.  
  
Then it was all over. Harry woke up, seeing his room. He was sweating; his scar was throbbing, and his breathing was short and hitched.  
  
Sirius was...alive?  
  
Harry left Grimmauld Place on broomstick, disguised with a disillusionment charm, armed only with his wand, searching for Sirius. Apparating or Flooing, even if he knew where Sirius was, would alert the Ministry to his whereabouts, a risk that he could not afford. 


	9. Death Eater Meeting

Draco Malfoy was sulking about his parent's manor, stacking his chocolate frog cards into a castle...bored to death, when his father came in, yelling at a poor house-elf he was holding painfully by the ear. By the sound of it, the Malfoys were out of Lucius' firewhiskey, and he was laying the blame on the first house-elf he saw. Luckily for the house-elf, his two masters soon felt an acute burning pain on their forearms. Draco and Lucius at the same time clamped their hands on their left forearms, as if that would numb the pain. Lucius swore and dropped the house-elf, which landed on its rear.  
  
"Come Draco. We're going," Lucius said, summoning the Death Eater black robes and masks off the hooks in a closet by the front door, handed one to Draco, and put his on while waiting for his son to dissapparate before he did.  
  
They appeared moments later at the old cemetery fence guarding the once home of Voldemort's mother, now shared by her only son and his wife. Voldemort was tight on security; wards were set up so anyone, Death Eater or Auror, wizard or witch, magical or muggle, human or creature, would suddenly become violently sick with a vile respiratory-type fever, that is, unless they had prior permission to be there.  
  
In any case, Draco and Lucius appeared outside the black iron fence surrounding the old, unkempt yard around the old rundown place. They met Wormtail, the fat, balding grubby man standing by the gate and directing people to the back, making sure they were wearing their Death Eater robes and silver masks, and that no one had tried to sneak in uninvited, despite the wards.  
  
Lucius nodded in greeting toward the bumbling traitor and went inside, following Wormtail's gesture toward the living room.  
  
The place was unfamiliar to Lucius, but then again, they had meetings in so many different places as to make it difficult to be tracked, or for a spy to report as to their whereabouts.  
  
Draco looked a little nervous as he glanced at the house, but followed behind his father, down a stair case leading not to the prison Sirius was held in, but to another dungeon at the other end of the castle. Draco looked around; the place was foreboding – a dark, dank room hewed out of rock, with only a few windows toward the high ceiling, letting in bars of light like a prison cell. The rocky wall, if it could be called a wall, sloped down on one side, with loose rocks, some kind of torture machine meant to stretch someone over a bed of nails, and a few rats gnawing at what looked horribly like a corpse left to rot.  
  
Draco gulped, feeling slightly sick. The smell was horrible; the smell of mildew in a damp room, and the corpse and rats...  
  
There were several other Death Eaters there, unrecognizable under the cloaks and masks. However, Lucius seemed to know who most of them were – whether he recognized their mannerisms or statures or what, Draco didn't know; the masks held the ability of disguising one's voice as to not be detected.  
  
Voldemort wasn't there yet, or his wife; Draco knew Hermione would probably be there, as he was there when she had chosen the bastard over him and Snape...but Lucius didn't know at all; or did any of the other Death Eaters (aside from Snape) for that matter.  
  
Finally, when everyone who wasn't in Azkaban, dead, mentally insane, on the run, hiding, in denial, dying, horribly injured, held for trial, or held hostage by the Ministry was present, the murmurs and mutterings died immediately when two figures swept into the room – two silhouettes...a tall thin man in robes and a woman with a heck of a lot hair, in robes, standing by his side. The woman lit two torches with her wand, and the two figures faces were thrown into light; orange flickering light from the flame.  
  
"Remove your masks," Voldemort hissed, and his followers looked at each other before pulling their masks from their faces and pocketing them.  
  
One by one his followers came up to their master, kissing the hem of his robes and murmuring 'master,' as was expected.  
  
Voldemort's eyes swept over the crowd, as he mentally checked to see all those able to come were there; his penetrating cold red eyes like a snake's, leering into his follower's souls to see if they were loyal, truthful, worthy...everyone must have passed the test, for he didn't say anything, just sneered at the confused faces staring between him and the woman at his side.  
  
Aside from Draco and Severus, Voldemort's followers looked confused...for some, the first thought was that she might be his toy, but she wasn't chained to him, wearing provocative clothing, or flinching from him...  
  
Rather, she was standing tall and elegantly at his side...like a lady from a different era...dressed like a queen in a beautiful amethyst robe...a simple Medieval-style robe with long flowing sleeves and a low waistline...no embroidery, and she wasn't wearing any jewels, her bushy hair was up in a sloppy bun, but she looked like a gentle queen, linking arms with the Dark Lord, she looked a little nervous being put on the spot, but reassured by her new authority, and more importantly, her husband at her side. They looked almost like a married couple of regal status from a different time...if it weren't for his pale reptilian face, lipless scowling mouth, and icy red eyes, poisoned with anger and hate.  
  
Seeing his followers staring curiously at the woman next to him, Voldemort decided to explain.  
  
"Ah – I'm glad to see you all have joined me." He sniffed. "No guilt is in the air...first time in years, I believe? No matter. No doubt you, my faithful servants, are wondering as to the witch beside me. Do you not recognize the former Miss Hermione Granger, muggle-born Gryffindor, top- grades of her year, best friend of the Potter brat?"  
  
Hermione felt nervous beyond belief; she saw the twitches in the faces all too-recognizable...sneers sent her way, glares, heads turning...given her heritage and house, she knew she wouldn't be very popular with the followers, but given her choice in friends...what was she doing here, anyway? Why? Why was she here? She should be visiting with the Weasleys, with her parents, with Harry, Harry whom she had loved for so long...  
  
Her discomfort went unnoticed by the others, but he must have noticed...for he grabbed her hand in his, a reassuring, comforting gesture had it been anyone else, but his hands were so cold, and well – it was him. Seeing her disgusted at his touch, he slowly dropped her hand.  
  
There was mixed muttering among his followers...what was she doing here, not being tortured, raped, and crying out for mercy, but at their master's side? Voldemort raised a hand and everyone went silent, waiting for what he was going to say.  
  
"We are now locked in the bonds of matrimony; as she has chosen to be my bride," Voldemort hissed.  
  
The room went deathly silent. Not a sound was heard; it was as if people dared to breathe, to move. Voldemort was married? To a mudblood? A Gryffindor? To his adversary's loyal friend? Everyone's eyes were locked on Hermione and the Dark Lord...what might this mean? Was it truly love, or did they despise each other? Did they consummate their marriage? Would they have children? Would he drag her into darkness, or would she bring him to the light? Was there meaning behind this?  
  
Voldemort continued, "And as such, she is the Dark Lady...and holds as much power over you as I do. She holds your life thread just as I do, can assign orders to be carried out, curse you...and you are not to speak ill of her or mistreat her as you are wont to do [he glared at Lucius], unless you wish to invoke my wrath." He paused, before adding, "And the formalities apply the same as they do to me."  
  
Hermione glanced sideways at him; he had told her she would be Dark Lady, but to hold equal power over the Death Eaters and assign orders and the like? Lady Voldemort...  
  
He lowered his mouth to her ear and murmured so only she could hear, "I trust you. Do not abuse your power or I shall revoke it." She looked startled; he trusted her?  
  
She could see everyone's eyes on her...she recognized in the crowd some old schoolmates, the Lestranges, Averys, Notts, Crabbes, Goyles, Umbridge [Hermione raised her eyebrows but said nothing], Karkaroff, Wormtail...but she refused to look at either of the Malfoys, or Snape, for that matter. /Formalities?/ she wondered. That must mean...well she knew the Death Eaters called Voldemort either 'my lord' or 'master,' answered his beck and call, and bent down, kissing the hem of his robes...she gulped. Did that apply to her as well? She didn't want any of those vile Slytherin men near her robes...let alone their lips. She shuddered inwardly and looked up.  
  
Her eyes made contact with Lucius, Draco, and Snape, who were standing clustered together. In the past, they had insulted her, called her mudblood, or insufferable know-it-all, taunted her, assigned detentions, humiliated her, and now...well, the tables were turned. She now had full power over them. Snape may be a good actor, but his eyebrows were raised into his hair just as much as the Malfoys' were...oh, she could have fun with this...Hermione couldn't help flashing a brilliant smile...a grin highly similar to the Weasley twin's when they were up to mischief. Snape slowly turned his head toward the blonde-haired Legolas-look-alike at his side. No doubt they suddenly felt a pang of remorse at treating her so horribly, when now she held ultimate power over them...  
  
For the first time in her life, Hermione detected a flash of fear in their eyes...fear and shock.  
  
Voldemort looked ready to dismiss them, but Hermione tightened her grip on his arm; he tilted his head over so slightly towards her, as if allowing her to go on with whatever it was.  
  
"Just two things," Hermione said, apologetically, sweeping her eyes around the room, although not really making eye contact. "The whole kissing-the- robes-thing annoys me – a simple bow would be fine. And none of this 'my lord' and 'master' crap either. Call me 'Hermione.' And no, I'm not into using the Unforgivables on people, no matter how annoying and stuck-up they may be."  
  
She could almost hear an audible sigh of relief sweep through the room...and interestingly enough, she caught a glimpse of was it gratitude? in the Malfoys' and Snape's eyes...it was hard to tell with such icy cold eyes as theirs, but...  
  
Voldemort glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, and nodded his approval.  
  
"That's it....good night," Hermione said. She couldn't take this anymore...it was too much. The followers glanced at Voldemort, as if in question to as to whether to obey her orders or not, and he nodded irritably. She watched them all go...so it was just her and /him/ now...  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------- 


	10. Snape, Sirius, Mione

Two days after the Death Eater meeting incident, when Voldemort decided it was time Sirius had some entertainment (after all, sitting alone in a cell can get boring after awhile...). And as such, he waited until he knew his wife was pouring through the extensive library before summoning Severus and Wormtail...no doubt they'd have fun with their old school buddy, Sirius...  
  
Wormtail appeared almost immediately; as an unemployed poor excuse for a wizard, he was probably either in the sewer with other rats, or getting himself drunk in a shabby pub with money he stole from a child on the way there...  
  
With a loud pop Wormtail apparated just outside the fence and wandered in, meeting his master standing in the living room, leering at him. Shaking with fear and a heartbeat twice as fast as normal, Wormtail gulped and bent down, kissing his master's robes, stuttering 'master,' as was the custom when a servant saw Lord Voldemort.  
  
About ten minutes later, Snape apparated and glided into the house. Glaring at Wormtail's sniveling form cowering in the corner, and his master who had so rudely interrupted him from his precious potions-makings without prior warning, Snape clenched his teeth, bending down irritably and reluctantly barely touching his lips to the robe before quickly standing up, sneering in disgust.  
  
"Angry are you, my faithful Severus?" Voldemort hissed. Snape's icy obsidian eyes looked into his master's cold hateful garnet orbs...it would be impossible to tell whose eyes were colder, more hatred-bearing...or who looked more forbidding and diabolical...the bald scaly pale Voldemort, or the greasy long black-haired professor...both equal in tall height to the centimeter...  
  
Wormtail, who stood by far contrast, as a yellow-bellied coward, sniffing and having spasms of fear in the corner, with wide watery eyes eyeing the two other men in fear, Wormtail who even looked somewhat like a rat with his huge buckteeth, the short, fat, balding man, grubby-looking, unclean to the eye, with virtually no magical talent...just a near-Squib blind follower, who had betrayed his friends once out of fear...Wormtail, far different from the two other men in the room, yet working toward a common goal, poisoned like them by the same force resident in the darkest parts of nature...  
  
Snape didn't answer his master's question, unless having his lip curl in a sneer around his yellowing teeth was considered a response. Voldemort smirked unpleasantly, allowing his two pointed eye-teeth to show...  
  
"Good. I have an outlet for your anger...for both of you...as you both know, the dog did not die with Bella's curse...and he has reawakened from his coma. I am granting both of you the job of taking care of your old schoolmate – until that foolish Potter comes to rescue him, as I know he will. You may do /anything/ short of kill your prisoner. Now go."  
  
A rarely-seen grin spread across Snape's features, before he regained his composure. This is why he stuck with the Dark Lord after all these years...being a Death Eater did not come without its rewards.  
  
Wormtail wet himself from fear at seeing his ex-school friend...Snape wrinkled his nose in disgust and pointed a simple charm at the rat's crotch before heading toward the dungeons.  
  
--------------------------------------  
  
Hermione was in the library, searching through the novel section of Voldemort's collection...it was mostly gothic novels and tragedies, Stephen King and horror novels, but towards the end, she found a small selection hidden in a far corner of romance novels. They appeared barely used, if at all...although the fact that the Dark Lord himself read romance novels was highly amusing, possibly suitable blackmail...  
  
A damper was put on her mood when she recalled this was his mother's house...they probably belonged to his mother, and haven't been touched since his mother left.  
  
She paused. She heard hushed voices downstairs, and strained her ears...  
  
She couldn't make out who it was, but it couldn't be good, whatever it was. It was never good, living with the heir of Slytherin 24/7...  
  
She waited until the voices died down, and then cast a temporary silencing charm on her feet, and soundlessly crept out of the library and followed the sound of footsteps into the dungeons.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Sirius was locked up in the dungeon, moodily watching the barred light slowly spread across the floor...this was all too like Azkaban...and thinking of Azkaban brought back horrible memories...of fights with Kreacher, of being disowned and running away from home, of being thought a dark wizard, of James' and Lily's deaths, of Peter framing him, of being thrown in Azkaban in the first place, of encounters at Hogwarts when Snape got the best of him...  
  
At least no one was here to torture him or anything...although the fact that there wasn't, gave him a false sense of security...and uncertainty....  
  
Minutes later, he heard footsteps at the North end to his dungeon, and he went still...it was probably Voldemort, but hell, maybe Harry found out and came to rescue him...  
  
It was worse.  
  
Two men, whom he knew so well he could recognize their silhouettes, their shadows, even at a distance...Sirius groaned, and threw his head back against the wooden pillar in exasperation.  
  
Probably the two people he hated most in the world now stood in front of him...Snivellus and Wormtail, filthy betrayers and traitors of the side of Light...  
  
Hard to imagine he had once gone to school with them, pulling pranks on Snape with Wormtail at his side....  
  
And now Snape and Wormtail were glaring down at him – in the case of Snape, looking anywhere but at him, in Wormtail's case.  
  
"Well, Black...you've gone from being imprisoned in Azkaban due to the Ministry of Magic, to imprisoned in your own home due to the Order, and now imprisoned in a dungeon due to the Dark Lord..." Snape sneered. He bent down, so his face was nearly level with Sirius'. "I guess some dogs are just meant to be chained up..." Snape sneered.  
  
Sirius bared his teeth and lashed out to punch his enemy since schooldays...but the chains stopped his fist inches short of Snape's face. Snape smirked and straightened to his full height.  
  
Wormtail was cowering a meter behind Snape, looking like he wanted to be anyplace but here.  
  
Sirius glared at his old friend, which was difficult as Wormtail refused to make eye contact.  
  
"I'm disappointed in you, Wormtail." Sirius said softly. "You used to accompany me and James on pranks and such – we were such great friends...and then you join Voldemort and sell two of your friends to him...and now you sink even lower, standing by Snivellus' side, doing nothing to help an old friend...or were we friends at all?"  
  
Wormtail looked confused...he narrowed his eyes in frustration and shook his head slightly, shifting his eyes from side to side, as if trying to decipher something said in a different language.  
  
"That doesn't say much of you, Black, if you rely on this tainted rat's help," Snape sneered.  
  
"Shut up, Snape – I swear, when I get out of here..." Sirius growled.  
  
Snape bent down close enough to whisper in his adversary's ear, "That is, /if/ you get out of here," before straightening out of Sirius' punching range.  
  
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Sirius yelled.  
  
"I beg your pardon? /I/ am not the dog here." Bending down to Sirius' ear, Snape muttered, "Our master gave us orders to do /anything/ we wanted to you, short of kill you. Potter's on his way to rescue you, but the Dark Lord stands between him and his trusted /godfather/."  
  
Sirius lowered his voice and sneered, mocking Snape. And in a perfect imitation of Snape, Sirius said, "James had a lovely wife, a child, a home, a respected place in society, friends...everything you don't. Notice how Lily chose the dog's friend, instead of you..."  
  
Snape swung his leg back and kicked Sirius in the groin, digging his heel into the sensitive flesh, feeling cells crush beneath his dragon hide boot.  
  
Wormtail flinched, but did nothing to stop Snape.  
  
Sirius bit his tongue to escape any sound leaking out, but he was on the floor...writhing and hold his crotch, muttering obscenities towards Snape...twitching at the feet of his enemy, chained, and at his mercy, was /not/ how he envisioned life...  
  
A voice cut across the dungeon.  
  
"ENOUGH!!"  
  
A shrill woman's voice shattering the tense silence; and the men's heads jerked in the direction of the sound.  
  
Hermione strode over to them, bouncy curls flying about her face. She stopped so she was three feet from each of the men...Her hair was frazzled as if inserted in an electrical outlet, her eyes glinting with anger, her cheeks tinged pinkish red with blood rising to her head, and she was breathing as if she had run a marathon. In short, she looked beyond anger.  
  
Snape and Wormtail glanced at each other worriedly and bowed; Wormtail was shaking at the prospect of having another master, and Snape looked irritable that he had been interrupted in pissing off an old school fiend, and was now reduced to bowing to the Gryffindor know-it-all.  
  
Hermione's expression of fury didn't change, but she nodded her head and turned toward Sirius.  
  
"Sirius, Bella /did/ put Avada Kedavara on you, I presume?" Hermione asked, as if trying to get to the root of this problem; she was always one to solve things logically. Sirius nodded his head dumbly, letting his elbow- length matted brown hair fall into his face.  
  
She raised her voice, "And obviously it didn't work because you're not dead...which could only mean that she said the curse wrong, or her motive wasn't fully there...so you didn't fully die...just...?"  
  
"He was in a coma, Miss Grang—er..." Snape started silkily, as if in a Potions lesson like a year ago, before faltering.  
  
Hermione's head snapped in his direction.  
  
She approached her former Professor, stroking his chin slowly, turning his head toward hers, leaving trailing reddening nail imprints on his cheek.  
  
"I am not a Miss anymore, Severus. Nor am I a Granger...I presume after my hubbie announced our marriage, you would cease to call me that."  
  
Snape scowled and jerked away from her.  
  
Sirius stared at Hermione, the smart witch he had first met in the Shrieking Shack many years ago, who had yelled at Lupin when the two Marauders embraced each other after many long years...the witch who was a dear friend to his godson, and a prefect...the smart one, the Remus in Harry's trio...what had happened to her?  
  
Hermione started pacing to work out her violent energy, and to help her get back on track.  
  
"A coma...so, I am deducing, Voldemort was the one to bring you here as bait for his enemy...and of course, my lover /also/ drafted the two people you hate most to watch over you..."  
  
Wormtail flinched horribly at mention of his master's name, nearly falling over. Hermione closed her eyes and opened them slowly, looking at Wormtail apologetically.  
  
Hermione snapped, "Peter, if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. You're free to go."  
  
Wormtail swayed on his feet, overbalancing, before going up the stairs. Hermione watched him go before wheeling on her heels toward the other two remaining.  
  
Sirius' eyebrows were shot up into his hair, and he took on a shocked expression – his mouth was a perfect 'o' and his eyes wide as coins...  
  
"Lover?" he mouthed. His silent question went unanswered.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward Hermione.  
  
"And?" Snape said icily, gesturing pointedly at Sirius' chains.  
  
"And so you decide you can taunt Sirius as usual and stoop to a level low even among muggles, kicking him in the bloody groin?" Hermione shrieked, upturning her chin defiantly. "You. Are. Part. Of. The. Order." Hermione said, poking the double agent in the chest at every word for emphasis.  
  
Sirius smirked at Snape for being told off, but Hermione gave him her best warning look.  
  
"Do you have a point – Miss—us...er...Riddle?" Snape said lowly.  
  
"YES I DO HAVE A POINT!! YOU TWO HAVE BEEN AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS SINCE YOU WERE ELEVEN – FOR THE PAST TWENTY-FIVE YEARS! YOU CAN'T EVEN BE IN THE SAME ROOM TOGETHER!" Hermione yelled. Snape and breathed heavily... "Look. You're both driving each other insane. Honestly – so you weren't the best of friends in the past. Give it a rest! Forget about the goddamn grudge and forgive each other!" Her voice steadily rose during the past few sentences...  
  
There was a long awkward silence...Sirius and Snape were looking uncertainly at Hermione, as if afraid she would start yelling again if they said anything. Hermione was breathing deeply to calm herself, and looked thoughtful for a second.  
  
"Severus – release him," she said quietly, but with authority in her voice equal to what Snape, Dumbledore, or Voldemort could easily achieve without raising their voices.  
  
Snape looked doubtful at her, and refused to move, as if he considered being tortured the lesser of two evils compared to releasing his old school fiend.  
  
"Severus! RELEASE HIM!" Hermione shouted.  
  
For the first time in his life, Snape backed away from someone. Obeyed a student, or anyone, without question. To the benefit of Black, of all people. He bent down reluctantly to Sirius' side. He pulled out his wand, pointed it at the left wrist band, and muttered "Alohomora" but nothing happened. He pocketed his wand and held out a hand behind him, palm facing the ceiling. Hermione dropped a small rusty iron key into his hand, and Snape withdrew his hand and fit the key into the lock. Sirius was leaning as far back from Snape as possible, and Snape had forcefully clamped his hand on Sirius', and the other hand was violently jiggling the key until Sirius' left hand came free. One hand done, Snape stood after thrusting the key into Sirius' hand to let him work himself free. Sirius grabbed the key from him and twisted it in the other locks until he was free, and stood up, handing the key to Hermione.  
  
The trio froze, hearing footsteps approaching. Hermione walked toward the noise, letting her hair bounce behind her every time she took a step that echoed through the stone floor – the spell had worn off.  
  
Sirius and Snape stood frozen to the spot, hidden in the shadows. Sirius was dragging a chain from his thin neck...he transformed into a huge black dog in an effort to loosen the iron band on his neck attacked to the chain, as the key went to a padlock fastening the chain to the pillar. It didn't work; rather, Snape smirked and picked up the chain in his hand like a leash; Sirius growled low in his throat and Snape dropped the chain on his furry head, and Sirius tried to bite Snape's leg off...Sirius changed back into a man, but their fight was short-lived when voices carried through the dungeon, acoustics greatly improved by the rock it was hewed out of. The dungeon curved slightly so they couldn't see, but Sirius and Snape stood transfixed to the spot in horror as two voices echoed throughout the dungeon – first what was obviously Hermione, and then a high-pitched cold hiss...Voldemort...they couldn't help overhearing, and didn't trust Voldemort not to torture or kill them on sight.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"What am I doing here? I believe this is /my/ dungeon with /my/ prisoners...Why, I could ask you the same question."  
  
"I only came down here because I heard voices..."  
  
"As did I – and a woman's voice, not likely to come from Black or Severus..."  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Did you just tell me to shut up?"  
  
"YES!"  
  
"Now, would you mind explaining to me, WHY Black happens to be freed?"  
  
"WHY WAS HE LOCKED UP IN THE FIRST PLACE? YOU JUST LOCK HIM UP IN THE DUNGEON AND LEAVE HIM IN SNAPE AND PETTIGREW'S CARE? THAT'S AS GOOD AS KILLING HIM!" It was hard for Sirius or Snape to hear this bit, as it was followed by a high pitched echo, but they got the gist of it...  
  
"I put him there, yes, and so what? Honestly, woman – he'll die anyway..."  
  
"Only a lot sooner...and WHY did you lock him up?"  
  
"To lure your best friend in the hopes of killing him, squashing the Light Side, taking over as Minister of Magic, and leading this world into a pit of doom and death under my supreme rule. Now why did you /have/ to /free/ him?"  
  
"Why shouldn't I free a goddamn innocent man, Tom?"  
  
"I'm starting to think making you Dark Lady was a bad idea, if you decide you're going to go back and undo everything I do."  
  
"And I'm starting to think marrying you was a bad idea if you decide you're going to go back and hurt everyone I'm friends with."  
  
"Your poor choice in friends is your problem."  
  
"Your poor choice in hobbies is yours."  
  
"SHUT UP BITCH!"  
  
A loud slap was heard against flesh, and a low growl. Snape and Sirius glanced at each other in the following silence.  
  
Then, they had to strain their ears to hear the final end to the argument, it was so quiet.  
  
"There's a reason why Harry is so much more popular with the majority of the magical public."  
  
"Then go shag /him/, if you feel so inclined!"  
  
And then, footsteps were heard retreating, which stopped quickly, as if the other had put a hand on the one retreating.  
  
"Hermione...please..."  
  
"What?" she shrieked. "Get away from me! I don't want anything to do with you! Just leave me ALONE!"  
  
Sirius slowly crept closer, soundlessly, just around the bend – he had long ago opened his heart not only to Harry but to his friends as well...Snape scowled, but glided into Sirius' shadow, just enough to see around the bend.  
  
Hermione had turned away from him in distress, bowing her head toward the floor, hiding her face behind her thick hair, shivering and hugging herself as if she was in a bitter cold wind.  
  
Voldemort was staring at her with an odd look in his eyes – for once, the hatred was gone from his eyes, and his eyes were open to his soul...he looked almost compassionate, concerned, as if he cared about her...it quickly left his cold red snake-slit eyes, but there was no question that it was there. Sirius raised an eyebrow, and turned toward Snape; Snape was as shocked as he was. The monster had feelings?  
  
They turned back toward the scene eight meters in front of them, helpless to escape unnoticed, fearing their presence known.  
  
He took off his outer black cloak and draped it around her shoulders, leaving him in only a thin black robe.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, close enough so his hot breath fell against her ear.  
  
"Apology accepted," Hermione said dryly. He looked at her quizzically, as if knowing she didn't really forgive him, so she elaborated on her thoughts. "Since when does the evil Lord Voldemort hand out apologies anyway?"  
  
He chuckled. "When 'the evil Lord Voldemort' found someone worth handing out his apologies to."  
  
She felt unsettled by his caring for her...he was the Dark Lord, of all people, and he suddenly had feelings toward another person...? But she changed the subject.  
  
"I don't know what happened to – ugh – those two! I feel kind of guilty – I took my anger toward you out on them..."  
  
"Guilty?"  
  
"Yes. A feeling you don't have – remorse over killing someone – something like that...?" He looked thoughtful for a second, and then shook his head; the bar-like light streaming from the windows danced on his bald head. Hermione snorted. "Anyway, I made dinner ahead of time and put a warming charm on it...do you eat, or should I get you a pint of blood?"  
  
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Yes, I eat – I am human, contrary to popular opinion."  
  
Snape's eyebrows went into his hair. Did the Dark Lord just crack a joke? What was happening to him? Is this what happens when you get a woman in your life? Thank Merlin I'm single, he thought...  
  
Sirius took this as his cue to leave; he nodded at Snape and left; Snape strode by Sirius' side, or rather, a stride ahead. He was about to cut behind Hermione toward the exit on his way to apparate as soon as he left the wards, but Hermione stopped him.  
  
"Severus? Sirius?" she asked timidly, as if fearing the answer was no, "Would you – like to stay for dinner?"  
  
Sirius and Snape glared daggers at each other – either daring each other to answer, or recognizing the absurdity of the question, or possibly considering it...or possible excuses.  
  
"Er...much as I would love to eat dinner with Black, the Dark Lord, and Gryffindor's know-it-all..."  
  
"Oh – of course – I never knew you loved us so much, Severus!" Hermione said in a false tone of happiness.  
  
Snape growled. "No really. I must be going."  
  
Sirius had resorted to humming to himself, and Voldemort looked like he was struggling to keep a straight face at the craziness of it all.  
  
Hermione grabbed his arm, stopping him.  
  
"Severus – honestly, my cooking isn't all that bad...and well, look at you – you three are so tall, but thin! You need food!"  
  
"You sound like Molly, Hermione. And I refuse to eat my dinner anywhere near Black; I don't want dog hairs in my food."  
  
"I take that as a yes. And you Sirius?  
  
"Let's see, do I want to sit next to a greasy lump during dinner? It'd ruin my appetite! NO!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted. "Men. Honestly."  
  
She smiled and left.  
  
Sirius frowned. "Women. Honestly," he muttered in the same tone as Hermione had before. Only to hear an "I heard that!" coming from upstairs.  
  
Flicking her wand, plates, napkins, utensils, and cups for four immediately appeared on the table, which magically shrunk to fit the number of settings. Using an Accio charm, Hermione summoned the food she had been keeping warm with a charm, on the table.  
  
Voldemort shook his head slightly, and went up into the dining room, flanked by Sirius and Snape. They looked in horror at the table.  
  
"Hermione," Voldemort said. "This is – "  
  
"Retarded?" Sirius offered.  
  
"We are not eating dinner together!" Snape seethed.  
  
"And why not? What could Sirius and Voldemort have possibly done to you?" Hermione said innocently, just to get on Snape's nerves.  
  
"Everything." Snape said darkly.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------- 


	11. Dinner

Sirius snorted, but turned back to the table, looking from one seat to the next around the square table, before reluctantly sitting down. Hermione smiled and sat on the corner next to him, and Voldemort sat down on Hermione's other side. Snape stared at the empty seat, and refused to sit.  
  
"Oh sit down, Severus. The food's getting cold," Hermione said. Snape sneered at her.  
  
"I refuse to sit next to a flea-bitten dog," Snape said silkily.  
  
"As if I wanted to sit next to a greasy overgrown bat," Sirius growled.  
  
Voldemort rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, forcing Snape's body to rise three feet in the air, hovering three feet over the chair in a sitting position. Voldemort smirked and put his wand back, causing Snape to fall rudely into his chair.  
  
"There. That's better," Voldemort said, and turned his attention to the table. Gesturing at the pot, he turned toward his bride. "Could you inform us as to the nature of its contents?"  
  
Hermione frowned, and pulled the lid off, using her wand to lazily levitate portions of food on to the four plates on the table. "Pesto," she said. "An Italian pasta dish made with basil, olive oil, pine nuts, garlic, and parma..."  
  
Snape cut her off, saying, "I've put up with your know-it-all-ness for seven years – quite enough, don't you think?"  
  
"I was merely answering a question," Hermione said coldly. "And it was the same at school as well." She said a spell, allowing milk to pour from her wand into the four glasses, and summoned a pan of marinated chicken from the kitchen, forking out pieces on to the four plates before putting her wand in her pocket. She dug her fork into the pasta on her plate, noticing that although Voldemort was eating his half-heartedly, the other plates went untouched.  
  
Sirius watched her out of the corner of his eye nervously, watching her eat her first bite – Hermione's eyebrows knitted together, until she realized why she was the only one eating.  
  
"Sirius – /I/ cooked dinner – Tom thinks himself above 'house-elf duties,' as he puts it," Hermione said hollowly. Voldemort growled deep in his throat, and Sirius relaxed, and speared the chicken with his fork – Snape did likewise with his pasta, seeing his fears proved falsely. Sirius was eating like a starved man, helping himself to more in the pot and levitating more chicken out of the kitchen, but Snape was eating slowly, mostly stirring food around on his plate; it was the same way at Hogwarts.  
  
That wasn't the problem though; Hermione hadn't expected anything else. What bothered her was the tense, heavy silence...it was extremely quiet – hardly seemed like a meal, compared to the loud and boisterous feasts at Hogwarts. It was as if the three others didn't know how to cross the gulf between themselves, or how to cut across the silence – it was as if there was nothing to say...sure, they had ran into each other over the years and talked, but never really held a civilized conversation...  
  
Hermione had invited Sirius and Snape for dinner because she had pictured the dinners she had had with her family on Sunday nights in the summer – her parents, herself, and her sister – just talking, enjoying themselves, enjoying being in each other's company, chatting about the latest in the news, or the past weekend, or plans for the week, or someone's birthday, or just about anything...it was perhaps wishful thinking, nostalgic to that time during summer vacations, that motivated her to invite them. And she wanted the two men, enemies since they first met, to one day not just form a truce like Dumbledore requested in her third year, but an acquaintance, and eventually a friendship.  
  
And she didn't want it to go back to just being herself and Voldemort...she may call him Tom to his face, but otherwise she just thought of him as "Lord Voldemort," not really connecting the bitter past and the man in the textbooks, the person haunting her best friend, with her soul-mate next to her. The silence settling on the four seemed to suffocate Hermione; it was as if she couldn't breathe...at least she wasn't the only one who noticed it. Sirius was the first to break the silence.  
  
"This is so weird," Sirius said thickly through a mouthful of chicken, referring to the fact that he was eating dinner with his nemesis since schooldays, the feared Voldemort he worked against, and his best friend's son's friend.  
  
"For once in your life, Black, I agree with you," Snape said, not looking up from his plate, glaring at the noodles on his plate.  
  
Sirius choked on his mouthful of chicken, and started coughing. Hermione jerked her head towards him, startled, but no one else seemed to care. Voldemort continued eating as if nothing happened, and Snape was /grinning./ Sirius tried drinking from his glass, but couldn't get it down...he continued coughing, or trying to...and Hermione was going over the CPR she had learned long ago in her head.  
  
Snape was staring dreamily at Sirius – not as if he was infatuated with him, but rather, finally witnessing the man's death, and his dreams come true. Voldemort wiped his lipless mouth with the napkin on his lap, and glanced at Sirius, a mask of indifference on his face, not caring for Sirius' welfare. Hermione was watching her friend's godfather worriedly....she valued him as a dear friend... Sirius clasped his arms at his throat, as if trying to grope for the food and dislodge it...and he sputtered and stopped coughing. Voldemort jerked his head up at the sudden silence...Sirius' face was going pallid in color – his lips were bluish.  
  
Hermione stood up so fast her chair tipped over, and she pulled Sirius' chair back, letting him fall against her. She uprighted him, wrapped her arms around him, and made a fist just below his ribcage, at the base of his sternum. She wrapped her other hand around her fist and jerked upward – the Hemilich maneuver, as she didn't know what wizards did instead ...  
  
Snape looked perplexed as he tried to figure out what she was doing- pressing on Sirius' diaphragm to make artificial coughs to unblock his airway. Voldemort, being in a muggle orphanage during his youth, had no doubt heard about CPR or seen it on an old fuzzy black-and-white TV...of course wizards and magical folk had a simple spewing spell...she was a smart witch...so why did she bother with rudimentary muggle methods?  
  
Seeing him turning bluer in the face, Hermione watched his chest – he wasn't breathing. She breathed deeply and rolled up her sleeves, knowing what she had to do. She pushed his plate and place setting further back on the table, and oriented Sirius so his upper body was lying on the table. She pushed his long matted brown hair out of his face, tilted his head back, and watching his chest, put her mouth on his and exhaled quickly, inhaled through her nose, and exhaled into his mouth again, before lifting her head, watching his chest for signs of breathing.  
  
She reached into his mouth, pulling out the bit of chicken, and quickly wiped her hand on his napkin. She repeated the breathing every five seconds ...Snape looked disgusted – nauseous, as if he just found out there was some not-too-pleasant ingredient in the pasta he just ate. Voldemort was watching his wife in undisguised fascination – there was just something about actually seeing someone practice CPR on a person, saving their life – She cared enough about Sirius to perform that...would she attempt to do the same for him, if he was in Sirius' shoes? ...He found it interesting that she preferred the muggle method to a simple Healing spell...he noticed that Hermione refused to look at either his or Snape's faces, refused to think of anything except trying to save Sirius' life...  
  
About a minute and a half later, when Hermione had given Sirius another two breaths in a series, his eyes fluttered open on the second. Hermione lifted her head and watched his chest – it was rising and falling – he was breathing. She looked back at his face, and looking into his dark brown sunken eyes, she helped him to his feet. He stood, hunched over like a man who had endured too much suffering in his life (and he had), and stared at her.  
  
He remembered Voldemort ignoring him completely, Snape staring at him choking half-to-death, a look of undisguised glee on his face, and then Hermione – Harry's best friend, Voldemort's wife...whatever...it felt like she was kissing him spread on the table almost...so confusing...  
  
The first words he said were, "What the - ?"  
  
"You choked and stopped breathing," Hermione said quickly. "I – I saved you."  
  
"Uh – ah, thank you..." Sirius said, at a loss for words...so she wasn't that evil then...a good thing to tell the Order. Only Dumbledore, Draco, the Death Eaters, Snape, Wormtail, and Sirius apart from the couple themselves, knew about the marriage at this point. Of course, people would eventually find out, but no matter. Sirius' mind was brought back to the discussion at hand – Voldemort was voicing his thoughts on something...  
  
"I'm curious as to why you chose the muggle method opposed to a simple Healing spell," Voldemort said finally.  
  
Hermione looked at him unseeingly, searching her memory for the spell. "Ah yes," she said softly. "I remember...we learned it in sixth year. There's many muggle things I prefer to magical methods – muggle life isn't THAT bad... I just – I guess our childhoods never truly leave us," she said, as if that explained it. And in a way, it did. Sirius didn't touch the rest of his food - clearly he had lost his appetite at his near-death. Hermione looked at him concerned, and smiled – suddenly, she broke out laughing...the happiest she had been in weeks.  
  
"First you save my life, and then you start laughing at me?" Sirius asked, taking on a false offended tone.  
  
Hermione waved the comment away apologetically. "No – not at you...I was just thinking along the lines of our conversation before you choked – the only way this would be weirder is if it were Harry in my place instead...  
  
"Very disturbing thought," Voldemort said.  
  
"And I agree with you – amazing – you and Snape on the same night! Wow! Harry'll write me up for traitor-ism, but no matter..."  
  
"Why does every conversation have to center around that damned Potter?" Snape said irritably. "Death Eater meetings, Order meetings, meetings with Dumbledore – it's all everyone talks about!" He paused, and then added as an after thought. "And the Dark Lord."  
  
"Perhaps it could be because millions of lives are at stake as to the outcome of this war – and many will have their lives changed vastly for the better or worse simply by whether Potter wins or I win," Voldemort said softly, glaring at Snape.  
  
"Screw the prophecy!" Hermione yelled. "Are you really going to let Trelawney's bloody prediction decide your bloody fate? There's got to be another way!"  
  
"Like all Seers, she has the power to see the future – if it's already determined, then there's no other way," Voldemort said coolly, talking to Hermione slowly and deliberately as if speaking to a small child. "Potter will die," he said so firmly, there was no question.  
  
Hermione dropped her fork with a clatter and stood up for the second time that evening, shoving his chair so he was forced to look up at her seething face, fierce-eyed, rigid, blood pounding in her temples. He stood up as well, not liking to look up at someone.  
  
"The only reason I married you was to end the blasted hate in this world!" Hermione shrieked. It was too late that she realized she had just given away her secret plan – the plan she had refused to tell anyone, and that she had now just revealed to the person she least wanted to find out.  
  
Voldemort stared into her nutmeg eyes, bright with anger. And Hermione was glaring into his cold red eyes, like fire in his fury. He squeezed her shoulder tightly, but Hermione didn't flinch from the pain he was inflicting on her. "And," he said softly. "The only reason I asked for your hand in marriage was to break Potter, to get information."  
  
The two were unmindful, oblivious of their two witnesses in their second fight tonight – it was the day after they got married, and was far from anything remotely resembling a blissful honeymoon.  
  
"Oh really?" Hermione said, staring into his eyes. "Then the question remains, do you really /love/ me?" she asked, with eyes open to her soul, wild with emotions swimming within them. Anger. Regret. Hurt. Melancholy. He turned his head, looking at the floor to the left of her feet, not meeting her eyes.  
  
"I could ask you the same question," he said, an octave lower than normal.  
  
"Living with you hasn't been easy, and trying on my sanity, but yes. I love you," Hermione admitted softly, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice – she was telling the truth. She looked at him expectantly, and he realized she needed an answer.  
  
"I wouldn't want you dead," Voldemort said softly, raising his head to meet her eyes. His cold red eyes with cat-slit pupils...frozen with hatred over the years...she saw no emotion in his eyes now – just cold frostiness set in eyes like a vampire's...  
  
"So that's it then?" Hermione asked, blinking back tears. "You don't love me. You don't even like me. You just – don't want me dead. Is that it? So that's as far as your affection goes for me? You won't be seeing me much longer then – I'll just leave your life shall I? I mean, it is what you want..." She cut off, realizing she was starting to ramble.  
  
He stared at her blankly – he had no idea in all his years, how to deal with something like this. He pulled his wand out and pointed it at her – it was what he was used to, what he would usually do in various situations. Hermione grabbed his wand and flung it over her shoulder, and walked out the front door. Once outside, she ran – ran to the gate, to the ends of the wards, and dissapparated.  
  
Voldemort watched her go, his eyes shimmering with an unreadable emotion. He turned, and nearly jumped at seeing Sirius and Snape there. Snape looked annoyed at having to witness yet another lover's quarrel...he lit a fire in the fireplace and flooed back to his Potions lab.  
  
Which left Sirius, who was glaring at Voldemort. "Smart move," Sirius said coolly. "All you had to do was say those three words – you wouldn't even have to mean it, and she'd probably be kissing you right now." He paused to chug down the rest of his milk, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. He continued, "If you really care about her, give her a few days – she'll come back eventually – just, give her a poem and flowers or something..." He stopped to pick up Voldemort's wand on the floor, and thrust it in his hand. "And you could be nicer. And I don't even know why I'm giving /you/ love advice," Sirius said slowly, thinking as he spoke, and he left, walking out the front door and apparating like Hermione did, not looking back once.  
  
Voldemort sighed deeply, and sat down in his seat, pushing his food back, holding his head in his hands. He suddenly felt very old – and stupid. What had he done?  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Hermione apparated in the Burrow's living room – it was around seven at night. Molly Weasley was there, knitting a sweater, for a Christmas present, perhaps, as it was mid October...Christmas was two months away.  
  
She looked up, startled at the pop accompanying an apparition.  
  
Seeing Hermione standing in her living room, her face red and shining with tears, Molly leapt up, letting her knitting fall to the floor as she embraced Hermione in a hug, smoothing back her frazzled curly brown hair. She let Hermione cry into her shoulder.  
  
For a long time – who knows how long – moments, minutes, hours...Molly just held Hermione and let her cry.  
  
The only other one in the house were Ron...Fred and George were living in a flat above their business, Arthur was working late again, and of course, Percy, Bill, and Charlie had moved out long ago. Ginny was a seventh year at Hogwarts. And Ron had been outside having a late flight on his broomstick – he still hadn't officially moved out yet, lazy git that he is...he came in when it was too dark to see, and dropped his broomstick, seeing his friend of many years, and once a crush...she was such a mess...Ron joined in the hug – even for being oblivious to the obvious, he noticed Hermione's red, bloodshot eyes with crying, the tears falling down her face, her messy bedhead hair, her wrinkled robes...Ron glanced at his mother – she glared at him warningly, knowing his temper would sometimes snap.  
  
At last, Hermione fell silent, having no more tears left to cry...Molly guided her to the old, secondhand red plaid sofa, brightened with knitted covers and a knitted blanket folded on an armrest.  
  
Molly wrapped the blanket around Hermione, seeing as it was mid-October night, and sat beside her. Ron sat on his friend's other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders awkwardly, not knowing what else to do...he was as bad with women as Harry was – Ron still remembered vividly Harry's difficulties with Cho and their breakup about four years ago.  
  
Hermione sniffed and clutched the blanket closer to her...she was a mess. She didn't know why she suddenly started crying...  
  
It was when she clutched the blanket that Ron noticed the golden band on her finger – he stared at in surprise – Molly was frowning at him, until she realized what he was looking at.  
  
"Married are you, my dear?" Molly said gently, before Ron could say something potentially upsetting and insensitive, as he was sure to do.  
  
"What?" Hermione said, and looked down at her hand. "Oh. Um – yes..." she said, having trouble shaping her mouth around the words – she wasn't keen on the topic, so Molly didn't ask any further questions, and shook her head at Ron, who looked ready to say something. She couldn't stop him though, when he noticed a sterling silver ring on Hermione's right hand – a sterling silver ring in the shape of a snake winding around her finger, complete with a winding tail on top of her finger and an intricate head, complete with scales trailing down the body, and two tiny ruby eyes.  
  
Ron looked bewildered – the same way Goyle did when asked a question in class during their seven years at Hogwarts. Seeing Ron's look, Hermione quickly put her hand inside the blanket.  
  
"Where did you get that, Hermione?" Ron asked.  
  
"Where did I get what?"  
  
"That – that snake-ring..."  
  
She pulled her hand out – it was too late, she knew it. "Oh this?" she said, and forced a laugh, that sounded fake, even to her ears. "It was a family heirloom on my husband's mother's side of the family – I found it this morning while cleaning – couldn't take my eyes off it, so he gave it to me."  
  
Ron guffawed, staring at her in disbelief. "But Hermione," he said, still laughing, clutching his side. "That's a Slytherin ring, isn't it? Kind of odd for snake jewelry to be passed down on your husband's side of the family...unless..." Yes, Ron's brain had finally caught up with what he was saying. His face fell, and all laughter died from his face. In fact, his face paled, so the freckles stood out starkly against his skin, and he was unknowingly holding his breath.  
  
"Yes, Ron," Hermione said softly. "I married a Slytherin." Ron screamed, and backed away from her. Molly rolled her eyes, and gave Hermione an apologetic look, hugging her, and glaring expectantly at Ron.  
  
"H-Her-Hermione?" Ron stuttered. "Wh-Who was it? Do I want to know? Is it anyone I know?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said slowly, stroking the ring – she had dearly hoped Ron was elsewhere when she fell into Molly's arms... "You know him. Quite well." She could tell this would take a long time...why not make it fun as well? A mischievous grin spread on her face. "He's – well, I guess, the epitome of Slytherins – evil. Not nice. Dark. And, well, he's not on the best of terms with Harry...they've tried to kill each other on more than one occasion."  
  
She let that sink in, and glanced nervously at Molly – she had of course, by now had a more narrowed idea of who Hermione was talking about...had several ideas. Ron still didn't get it.  
  
"Merlin – please, Hermione – tell me you didn't marry Blaise Zambini!"  
  
Hermione looked confused. Blaise Zambini? The mild-mannered, quiet Slytherin who made friends with everybody, and should've gone to Ravenclaw? "No," Hermione said, annoyed. "Think – more Slytherin."  
  
It continued into a guessing game for the next few minutes, as Ron named slightly more evil Slytherins, naming everyone from Crabbe to Pansy Parkinson, a girl, to Susan Bones, who wasn't a Slytherin at all. Molly left for a bit, before coming back with a cup of tea.  
  
Ron was getting more and more panicky by the minute. Finally, he reached Draco – Hermione said no, he breathed a sigh of relief, before thinking of Snape – when Hermione said more evil, Ron shook his head, saying he couldn't think of any others, and coming to the conclusion that Hermione bought the rings in a muggle store to annoy him and was really single and going to his house because she secretly wanted to go out with him, and then that she bought the rings off Fred and George for revenge on him – Hermione shook her head.  
  
"Ronald Weasley," she said seriously. Ron jerked his head, hearing his full name rolling off her tongue. "I married Lord Voldemort."  
  
Needless to say, Ron fell off the couch, backing away from her, grabbing a cross Arthur stole from a raid off the table, and warding her off with it – he backed away to the door, before Molly grabbed his arm, scolding him for acting foolishly, and saying that he must support Hermione for being forced through this most unwanted marriage, and that he should help get her out of it, and ease her pain.  
  
Hermione blew a lock of hair out of her face in frustration, and flooed out – it was hopeless.  
  
She had steeled herself up for something like this – she expected to be hurt like this from marrying Lord Voldemort – he wasn't Prince Charming anymore than Professor Snape was. But it still caught her unprepared – honestly – "I wouldn't want you dead?" – that could go the same for his Death Eaters' children – and Voldemort definitely did not care about or love someone like the slut Pansy Parkinson or the idiot Vincent Crabbe. She could say the same thing about Mad Eye Moody – she didn't want him dead, but that didn't mean she loved him – cared just enough about him to want him alive...  
  
And she was starting to think that achieving friendship between Voldemort and Harry would never happen – that her plan was faulty, was impossible, that she had made a mistake, wasn't thinking, and ended up bonded in holy matrimony to the infamous murdering psychopath. She quickly shut this out of her mind...sure, he was a psycho, murdering idiot, angered her, didn't love her, was only doing this because he was forced into it, because he was using her, wanted her best friend and many other of her friends dead, but – she /loved/ him.  
  
She suspected him of a variation of bipolar disorder, as he switched so quickly and abruptly from being angry at her, to well – charming almost. Not Prince Charming, with capital P and C, but well – he could be a real gentleman sometimes – she remembered him trying to comfort her during the Death Eater meeting, going along with her decisions, naming her his equal, granting her power, their kiss when they got married...and then he would switch back to his angry self. It was so damn infuriating.  
  
And she thought of Sirius and Snape...they were interesting to talk to, even more so when you put them in a room together, but it was – kind of sad, really – she had heard stories about their early childhoods, lives at homes in Dark families, their many run-ins at Hogwarts, and afterwards...she had for a long time suspected they both loved Lily just as much as James did, but she had long ago decided to hold it to herself – it would hurt Harry, knowing they both hit on his mom...he could've easily become Harry Black or Harry Snape given a few small changes in his parent's lives...and times would've been different, obviously.  
  
But just the thought of Sirius and Snape – they had each endured so much – it just showed how much the body and mind could endure, how strong they were....but they had differences as well – and they hated each other's guts...and that wouldn't change any more that the relationship between her partner and best friend would...she had made a huge mistake.  
  
And there was no going back – divorce was unheard of in the wizard world, and bonding through marriage always brought the mate back home...their souls were interconnected. The only way out of it was to kill herself...but she couldn't do that. People needed her here, she was young, she could get over this, and come out on top...or was she trying too hard?  
  
She arrived at Grimmauld place, and fell asleep immediately on a couch, worn out emotionally. It had been a long day. Little did she know of the Order of the Phoenix meeting the next day and what that would bring.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- 


	12. Order Meeting

She was rudely awoken by a loud crash, followed by Sirius' mother screaming vile things about half-bloods and pureblood-traitors and mudbloods fouling her house.  
  
Tonks came in, muttering apologies, but Hermione was wide awake by now. She checked her watch – 9:05 – and sat up. Tonks was wearing electric-blue hair today that stuck up like spikes down the center of her head.  
  
"Sorry Hermione," Tonks muttered. "I'll just be going now – had to get something for the Order meeting – oh by the way, it's been postponed until tomorrow – Dumbledore said he was feeling a bit off color today – anyway, I'm so glad we finally got rid of Kreacher..." Without another word, she left, accidentally knocking over what sounded like the umbrella stand on her way out.  
  
So Hermione was left alone...or was she? Order meeting...Order meeting...damn, damn, damn.  
  
She cursed and set out to find other occupants in the house – no one in the living room with her, so she went up to the second floor – she opened one door to find Sirius snoring – she promptly shut the door, and went to see if there was anyone else in the house – one room was empty, but lived in – Hermione spotted Hedwig hooting softly in annoyance at being cooped up in her master's room. Hermione came over and opened the window, allowing her to get some exercise – definitely Harry's room. One room across the hall – ah, yes – the torn curtains, shabby clothing laid out, and the Marauder's Map laid out on a desk – that was Lupin's room. She shut the door, and went downstairs – Lupin had always been a morning person, maybe he was up already?  
  
She went back by Sirius' room and just – stood in the doorway – he was spread out on his back on a black-sheeted queen-size waterbed, wearing a shabby blue pair of what looked like boxers – the sheets were up to his waist and wrapped around him, long brown hair spread out on the pillow – Hermione just stood there in the doorway and watched his chest rise and fall with every snore – she had loved Sirius nearly as much as Harry did – it was hard not to with someone as eccentric and likable as him – she was just glad that he was alive. A sound behind her made her jump – she wheeled around, only to see Lupin there, in a thin shabby pinstriped bathrobe, leaning against the wall.  
  
"Good morning, Hermione," he said good-naturedly, as if he hadn't just found her in his house, watching his best-friend sleeping.  
  
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, startled. "I – I'm sorry, I just came to spend the night – I didn't know anyone was here..."  
  
"It's fine – I've been rather relieved to see Padfoot as well...Anyway, would you care to join me for some breakfast?"  
  
Hermione smiled; this was why she liked Lupin – he was kind to everyone, good-natured...the last person she would've expected to be a werewolf. Then again, in the magical world, nothing was what you expected. She followed him downstairs and had a cup of coffee and a croissant – she insisted on chocolate – Lupin nodded his head knowingly, but didn't say anything.  
  
They talked about the latest news in the Daily Prophet, Fred and George's business, Quidditch...Hermione would've talked about anything to keep her mind off darker issues at hand.  
  
Afterward, Lupin went to look for work in Hogsmeade (he had tried, without success, in Diagon Alley) after leaving a note for Sirius, Hermione went to get some money from Gringotts, and buy herself some books from Flourish and Blotts, as well as try and find a place for work herself...she needed something to keep herself occupied, now that school was over.  
  
Walking through Diagon Alley, she tried thinking of what interested her...well, just about anything – she researched so many topics at Hogwarts library...potions, transfiguration, history, arithmancy, magical creatures, charms...she didn't see a point in buying any books, as Voldemort had so many – but she really didn't know what she wanted to do with herself now that she was out of school. She had given herself way too much leisure – while studying for the NEWTs during last year, she had promised herself she would find herself a job within a month after graduation – she didn't want to end up moving back in with her parents, or asking for money...  
  
Speaking of money, she needed money. She walked into Gringotts, and approached a rather grumpy goblin sitting behind the desk, wearing spectacles that might fit a human, but were definitely too big for him; they kept sliding down his nose.  
  
"What are you here for?" the goblin grunted. "I um – well, I got married – see, and I have no vault myself, but my husband has one..." Hermione said tentatively, shifting her weight from foot to foot – she was muggleborn and therefore had no family gold in Gringotts, and she hadn't seen her parents, nor did she want to beg them for money. She assumed in the wizarding world that a couple pooled their property and gold once they got married, just like in the muggle world...  
  
The goblin rolled his eyes; no doubt he had heard something like this far too often. "Yes of course...we'll just need your husband's key."  
  
Hermione paled. Key? She didn't have the bloody key!  
  
She settled for reasoning with the goblin. "I don't have the key with me!"  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Trying to break into someone else's vault?" Hermione stammered 'no,' but the goblin looked unconvinced. "To the manager with you!" he squeaked. Hermione breathed deeply in exasperation, and allowed the goblin to lead her to the manager...an older, grumpier looking goblin in a fancier crimson suit. The two goblins conversed in Gribblededook, or goblin-language for a long time – it looked like the manager was angry with his employee with something – they kept looking back at Hermione, and the employee was flustered, to say the least – he was waving his hands around and his voice got progressively squeakier as he tried to make his point – at last the manager sent the employee back to his station behind the desk, and switched to English.  
  
"Don't have the key, eh?" he said, grinning toothily. Hermione shook her head no.  
  
"Well, no matter – hand me your ring and I'll run some tests on it." Hermione noticed that she was nervously twirling her hair around her finger, and tucked the lock behind her ear. She gently tugged on the ring and it came free – she reluctantly handed it to the goblin, who smirked and fingered the ring admiringly, muttering something about gold, before picking the ring up in forceps. Checking a shelf behind him, he found a vial of dandelion-yellow potion, put it on the desk, and dropped the ring in it. Hermione's eyes widened in recognition of the potion she remembered reading about in her sixth year – the Conjugal potion – commonly used to prove marriages, or affairs, or divorcement for court cases – a common object was put in the yellow potion – if it didn't turn color, it was false.  
  
If it turned blue, it was a friendship. Black was enemies. Red was marriage, or a very close relationship. Hermione bent down to closely watch her ring – the potion turned vivid red – the goblin frowned, as if hoping it wouldn't turn color and Hermione would be proven guilty of trying to break into a vault. He pulled the ring out of the potion and handed it to Hermione – she cleaned the potion off with a simple water charm, and put it back on her finger. The goblin pulled out a quill from the desk, and dipped it into the potion, before dropping it on a piece of parchment in front of him. The quill hovered just over the parchment, before writing out "Tom Marvolo Riddle" in block all-caps.  
  
The goblin manager vanished the potion in the vial and put the vial and quill away. He pulled out a huge logbook, setting it on the desk. Hermione thought he must have used magic – the book was about a square foot, and between two heavy covers were what could easily be thousands of pages – the whole book looked like it might weigh about fifty pounds at least – far more than the goblin. He ran his finger down the spine and it opened to Rhy- Rie, searching the page. At last his long knobbly goblin finger stopped at "Riddle, Tom Marvolo" – he pulled out what looked like a blob of glowing gel-like silver from a drawer underneath the counter and tapped the name once – the blob of silver floated in air and elongated, forming what looked like a key. When the newly-created key fell on top of the book, the goblin grumpily handed it to Hermione, putting the book away with a snap of his fingers. "Griphook!" he squealed. "Vault 498!" Griphook came over – he was the disgruntled employee Hermione was talking with originally – and led Hermione down to the vaults.  
  
A half hour later, Hermione walked out of Gringotts, blinking in the sunlight. She made her way down Diagon Alley. She needed a job.  
  
She could always fall back on Weasley Wizard Wheezes, but well...although she could offer valuable spells and charms for the sweets, she had looked down on the business from Day One: Tricking friends into eating Canary Creams. Flourish and Blotts maybe...she was walking by....but on second thought, no – she had books, and she could see herself quickly growing bored just shelving books.  
  
Tom, the innkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron, could always use an extra hand, but it was the same deal with Flourish and Blotts...  
  
Hermione stopped walking down Diagon Alley when she passed a small family- owned deli – she got herself a sandwich and an iced tea, before sitting down to think over her life. What she really wanted with her life.  
  
She had long ago in one of the first Divination classes with Trelawney come up with a list of goals for her life...she had always liked making lists, putting her thoughts down in a logical order – this time she had planned what she wanted to do with her life. She had lost the list long ago, but mentally it was still there; she copied what she recalled from memory onto a napkin, after she finished lunch.  
  
Get OWLs. Get NEWTs. Get Married – poss. to Ron or Harry?. Become member of Order. Become Auror. Or professor. Or start own business. Have kids.  
  
The first two, she had of course, accomplished – getting the most OWLs and NEWTs in her year. Get married – well she had always wanted that to happen in her mid-twenties, once she formed a relationship with a young guy and then had him propose to her and marry him out of love...but hey – she had a man now – he may not be young and loving, but there was still the romanticism to taming a dark mysterious man...yeah, right. Hermione blinked, and burst out laughing – she got lots of weird looks, but so what? Member of the Order, or an Auror, like that'd ever happen – most likely was becoming a Death Eater now. She sighed, reluctantly inking out those two goals so harshly her napkin ripped. Professor...maybe...although, on second thought...much as she would love teaching and the huge break, and being at Hogwarts again, well, she knew certain people wouldn't want her around Dumbledore, and also...well, the whole reason she married Lord Voldemort was to basically set the wizarding world at peace without a war – ambitious and unlikely, yes, but it had even less chance of succeeding if she was away ten months of the year. Damn it. Kids...that was far in the future, by her standards- she would at least wait until times weren't as turbulent, both in the Riddle household, and outside of it. Start her own business. That, she could do. Question is, what?  
  
She sank back in her chair, tapping the table absent-mindedly with the tip of her quill. Maybe something in the Muggle world...what did she want before she found out about magic and being a witch? She remembered back when she was four, wanting to be a ballerina. Then again, as far as she knew, every girl wanted to be one when they were four...and every boy wanted to be either a fireman, policeman, or truck driver.  
  
She paused. /Every/ girl? /Every/ boy? She knew plenty of witches and wizards today that had no idea what the hell either profession was, had no interest in being either, and probably had no idea how to be either...she seriously doubted they would've felt differently back when they were four years old...then again, it was pretty hard to picture almost anyone as being that young...  
  
So think later. Older than four, less than eleven. She had been interested in people's minds. How the brain worked. Psychology. What motivated people to do or say something. Why people made the choices they did. The connection between neurons and thought. A very common field of study in the muggle world, but almost unheard of in the magical world.  
  
If she could somehow incorporate magic into that kind of science...  
  
Who was she kidding? Science and magic...two completely different things. Now, she could offer therapy – so many people needed it...but of course – no one would listen to her. She was just a teenage witch – no one would know her if she wasn't friends with Harry at school.  
  
She broke her quill in half in frustration, and sighed, running her fingers through her hair, getting her fingers caught momentarily in all the curls.  
  
Throwing her trash out, she got up and left, seeking sanctuary in Flourish and Blotts, settled down with a good book – not for research this time, but to merely read and enjoy.  
  
Hours later, she peeked out the window to see the sun hanging lower in the sky – she dissapparated, appearing moments later just outside where Grimmauld place would be- she saw the two houses on either side, but the Black house itself wasn't there – the wards were set up this way to repel muggles and unwanted company...she walked right up between the two houses, seeing them spread apart to make room for the Black house.  
  
She walked up to the front door, Remus let her in, and she followed him to the kitchen – they had dinner alone, seeing as Sirius had left. Remus said later he didn't know where Sirius went – he could turn into his dog form and then roam around the neighborhood, move in with a family, get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, go looking for Harry, go to Hogwarts, Godric's Hollow, the Shrieking Shack – Remus had no idea, but he trusted Sirius not to get into trouble.  
  
Hermione was grateful for that; she didn't know why, but it just – bothered her – she could still see the pained look in Sirius' eyes when he found out what she had done...  
  
She went to bed early that night – it felt odd – this time she had fallen asleep in Harry's bed – he wasn't there, but it still felt so ...weird – forbidding, like she shouldn't be there...she closed her eyes and woke up early the next day.  
  
This time she ventured into Muggle London, after exchanging some of the galleons she had pulled out of the vault for the equivalent in pounds.  
  
First thing she found was a clothing store – perfect; she needed clothes; she had been alternating between wearing clothes from several days ago, to conjuring clothes, to wearing old robes she found hung in a closet.  
  
She felt kind of guilty going and spending his money on a shopping spree – but hey, they were married – and she'd pay him back. Someday. Somehow.  
  
She walked out about two hours later, weighed down by three bags of clothes – luckily she had the foresight to wear an outfit out of the store, to avoid anymore stares at her robes, considered out-of-the-norm in the muggle world. She found lots of stuff – it was like a department store of women's clothes – she picked out the simple stuff – a beautiful dress, jeans, a few tops, sweaters, slippers, pajamas, underwear, bathing suit...one thing she couldn't resist, though, was a black lambskin trench coat – perfect, as it was well-into October, and getting a little chilly. And the great thing was, although it was muggle fabric so she couldn't enlargen it any, she could vanish the part below the waistline if she wanted a simple jacket. It was nice – like leather, but softer, finer-grained...  
  
She would've shrunk the bags and stuffed them in her pockets, however she was unable to do so, being in muggle London, surrounded by a crowd of people who wouldn't take well to a show of magic.  
  
She stopped for lunch at a deli on the corner, and was about to walk into Diagon Alley when something caught her eye – a CD store. Perfect. She had always loved music; it was one of those things she had to do without, being a witch – however, as a muggleborn, she missed it – she had grown up listening to anything from Phantom of the Opera, to Disney soundtracks, to Enya and Abba, and in her later teen years, Linkin Park and Third Eye Blind, and she had of course, listened in on Harry's rock CDs – his method of anger management, even if it wasn't very effective – she was one of those people that although she never saw herself as being professional, she liked singing to the music – she walked down the aisles, scanning the little tabs with an artist on it. She had a CD player at home, but it was so old and falling apart – it used its batteries pretty quickly, the headphones didn't sound unless put exactly right in the earphone jack, and her CD player had to be perfectly level. Kind of sad. So she found herself a decent Sony complete with headphones – and a few CDs, of course...a few old favorites, as well as a few rock CDs she liked out of Harry's collection – Matchbox 20 and Ozzy were alright, but some were just weird – Marilyn Manson for one thing – she had no idea why Harry liked the music – so violent.  
  
Her money bag considerably lighter and her fingers numb and reddening from holding so many bags, she walked into the Leaky Cauldron, where she could shrink and lighten everything, put it in her pockets, and left for Grimmauld Place – she got there just in time for the Order meeting.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------  
  
When last we left Voldemort, he was sitting in front of the table, holding his head in his hands as the last scene repeated itself in his head – they had only been married a few days, and he had ruined it all...  
  
At last, he got up slowly, clearing the table with a wave of his wand. He snorted. Love poetry? That was Black's advice? Flowers and love poetry? Since when did the infamous, evil Lord Voldemort write LOVE POETRY? Or walk into a florist shop in Diagon Alley? – ha, ya right...he could see that...  
  
/ "AUGH! It's – it's HIM! RUN!!!" "No – wait!" "AUGH! HELP!" "No – I just wanted a dozen red roses..."/  
  
As if.  
  
He may not wish her dead, may have an inkling of feeling for her towards the love end of the spectrum, instead of the hate/must die end...but he still did not go around wasting his time on such frivolous things...and whoever thought he did must be mad, worthy of St. Mungo's...so that was Black then. Who wasn't mad though, these days?  
  
Still, though...he didn't know why he was doing this, but he felt – he felt as if he had to make it up to her. He was human – and like everyone else, felt the biological need to settle down domestically with a woman, have a family...of course, he had many years ago blocked out that natural desire, but ever since he received that letter from his mom requesting him marry someone, that instinct had reawakened...no matter what he did, how many he killed or raped or tortured or controlled, or how many lives he ruined, or spells and potions he put on himself, or how inhuman and monstrous he appeared to the rest of the world, he was still human at heart, and always would be – he could not escape that.  
  
He had kept it secret from his Death Eaters, trying to satisfy the need with raping women on their raids, but of course it never fulfilled the instinct...and he had a chance now to settle down and have a family, have kids...but if his wife hated him, and ran from him, that just wouldn't happen...  
  
Life was so complicated.  
  
To cheer himself up, he called a few of his newly-recruited Death Eaters to prove their loyalty – and thus he ended up going on a raid with Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini, and Dolores Umbridge...it was a little of a disappointment, to say the least. Crabbe and Goyle were so thick he was surprised they could walk – although they were brawny and able to beat someone to a pulp if they tried, well, he had seen a fish smarter than them. For the love of Merlin, a fish. He might as well recruit trout. Parkinson was simpering over Malfoy – no matter how many times he Crucio-ed her, he didn't see her let go of him once. Poor guy. Umbridge kept challenging his authority, or making an annoying sound – "hem hem" or something along those lines...Zambini and Malfoy made excellent Death Eaters, though. The others he might have to kill off if they get on his nerves much longer...  
  
And he couldn't rape anyone – not that he wanted to – he had seen how many times Lucius had tried, only to bounce back once he came within a foot of the woman...bouncing off like a bubble or something, only to hit a wall, furniture, or another Death Eater, and knock himself out. Arrogant, cheating git.  
  
He did set a few homes on fire, torture some children, and kill some parents in front of their children, steal some gold, things like that. For some reason, it wasn't as satisfying as a week ago, as before. He had that brief high, feeling the power over someone, the power of someone's life in his hands...but it ended just as quickly...he would hear her voice in his head, or see the look of pain and disappointment in her eyes as she empathized with the victim...slowly shaking her head...  
  
He hoped she'd come back soon.  
  
He should do something for her though...not flowers or damn love poetry, too frivolous, but...yes...dark, but seductive...  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
Apparently Dumbledore had extended the invitation to the Order to just- graduated students, considering that they were now adults – however, to her relief, Fred and George weren't there – she didn't see them as the type to take something like this seriously.  
  
She sat down in the remaining empty chair, between Ron and Mad Eye Moody – he jumped when she sat down, surveying her with his round blue magical eye before turning back to his argument with Mundungus Fletcher. To her relief, Sirius and Snape were far away from her, and each other – she was sitting in the middle of the table, and they were on the same side, but at each end, so neither had to look at each other – to do so would only bring back memories of the night before.  
  
The meeting started out reasonably well – taking role, small talk, Mundungus falling asleep again...until Dumbledore turned to Snape. "What's our latest report on the Death Eaters?"  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow, and he shifted his eyes nervously, as if looking for Hermione at the table – he caught a glimpse of her bushy hair, but that was it. He didn't want to reveal everything – but it was his duty to – it's not like he could lie...  
  
"The Dark Lord as you know, has found himself a partner, and named her the Dark Lady, Headmaster. To my knowledge, he has surprisingly granted her equal power to his own..."  
  
He paused because of the predictable reactions of those who didn't know – laughing in disbelief, shaking their heads, muttering...  
  
HHhe not once looked in Hermione's direction. Hey – he had granted her the privilege of remaining anonymous...  
  
Snape picked it up again, being his usual insensitive, Slytherin self. "Obviously, he wishes to produce an heir, and given the nature of the woman he has selected, gain inside knowledge on our ranks and Potter. However, I have no idea as to granting her equal power whether he intends to bribe her into providing information, or extend his power – there are Dark potions and spells that would enable him to control his bride's mind, essentially making her an extension of himself...this would be strengthened by the matrimonial bond, and given her reputation as a witch on the light side, allow him to possibly possess unsuspecting people in contact with her."  
  
Hermione's teeth were clenched, and she crossed her arms over her chest. How dare he! Then again, it was possible and a consideration, given that it /was/ the Dark Lord...  
  
"How interesting," Figg said, in her usual croaky old-lady tone. "I wonder who the lucky lady is?" she said innocently – had it been Snape who said that, his voice would've been dripping with sarcasm.  
  
Hermione bit her lip, lest she say anything she might regret later on.  
  
She kind of droned out, but picked up later what Shacklebolt was saying. "So – I guess that makes it even more necessary to end this war quickly – before any damage can be done. Where is Potter? If we could somehow train him and prepare him for when he must kill You-Know-Who..."  
  
Uh oh. Bad idea...  
  
Glaring at Kingsley Shacklebolt she joined the meeting. Refusing to let her emotion get the better of her, she did her best to speak out. "But why?"  
  
His eyebrows came together. "I beg your pardon Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione breathed deeply – she could feel the mounting tension, but refused to give into it merely because of what he said – heck, he didn't know...  
  
"Why do we have to kill him at all?"  
  
The room went silent then – it was as if someone had turned off all sound, leaving just an empty vacuum void of sound – just eyes, eyes staring at her in disbelief. Of course, those that knew of the situation with her and the Dark Lord, were either looking at Hermione, concerned for her well-being, or in the case of Snape, resisting the urge to roll their eyes.  
  
"What do you mean? Of course we have to kill him – he's a madman, he's killed many, he's a threat to us, to the Ministry's national security, a psycho – look at how many lives he's ruined! Believe me, we're all doing our best to prepare Harry for the final battle, and then it's up to him to kill the monster."  
  
Hermione tilted her chin up – this was the final straw. "NO!" she screamed. She rested her head in her hands, feeling hot tears trailing down her cheeks. The next thing she said was just above a whisper, and she just barely avoided a shaky voice. "I love him," she whispered, not raising her head from her hands – hiding her face.  
  
Tonks fell out of her chair – she righted the chair and sat back in it. "YOU'RE his bride???" she stammered. Hermione only nodded.  
  
She then got up and left, headed to meet Lord Voldemort, not without a teen magazine from Tonks, containing an enclosed "England's Top 50 Sex Gods." - Tonks had said well no wonder she was so depressed, hanging around with mad- looking mutants like those Death Eaters and their leader – she had looked pointedly at Snape, causing her to glare daggers at the magazine cover as if it offended him, and start rubbing his temples to relieve a headache.  
  
Still wearing the pair of jeans, sneakers, and pale pink sweater she wore out of the store, Hermione dissapparated, appearing moments later outside the Riddle mansion.  
  
She hesitated, and then swung open the gate and walked down the path. She stopped a meter from the door. Would he be home, or out killing some innocent muggles? Did he actually care for her? Would he mind that she went and bought muggle clothes with his gold, without even asking? Would he be angry with her for walking out?  
  
Here goes nothing, she thought – and raised the knocker, letting it pound against the old wooden door. It swung open, creaking on its hinges – and she tilted her head, looking up into his cold reptilian red eyes...he had the strangest expression on his pale gaunt face...his lipless mouth was curved upwards in a – well, she couldn't tell...a smirk, sly smile, unpleasant grin...dear God, what did he do? It was only what...two, three days? Dear God, please let Harry be safe and untouched by murderous Slytherins out for his blood, she silently prayed. It was then that she noticed that he was hiding something behind his back. How interesting...it was just like her little sister when she was giving her a gift on Christmas morning...it would've been hilarious, had she not been assuming the worst, given that it wasn't her innocent little sister, but someone a bit different.  
  
"Welcome back," he said in that hoarse, high cold whisper. With anyone else, Hermione would've assumed that to be a friendly greeting...with Voldemort it just sounding menacing. What he did next, though, was what she least expected. He produced from behind his back, a block of fine Swiss 79% cacao dark chocolate, holding it out to her.  
  
Hermione was speechless. Dark chocolate? How did he know? Obviously he had one of his trusted Death Eaters buy it...or he robbed a store. Dark chocolate...her favorite – just like men often resorted to alcohol in times of trouble, she turned to chocolate...and not milk, but dark chocolate...the darker the better. Still, though – it didn't seem his type to...hey, it was chocolate. She had never loved him more than she did now...  
  
She didn't know what came over, she took the chocolate, and hugged him, impulsively fixing her lips on his mouth – their first kiss since they got married – before Hermione closed her eyes, she looked into his garnet orbs...he looked startled at first, but then he put his arms around her and deepened the kiss...it was odd kissing a man without lips, but he was surprisingly a good kisser...he leaned over her, and Hermione felt his tongue brushing against her lips and she let him enter...she felt the heat emanating from him...in the moment, nothing else mattered, just that she was here snogging her companion the Dark Lord...it was so wrong, but at the same time, it just felt so right...as it was where she belonged, he belonged...and from then on, he wasn't Lord Voldemort. He was simply Tom Riddle...an average man, hers...  
  
He closed the door behind her...in the heat of the moment, neither one noticed a pair of cold, steel gray eyes leering at them in dislike, disgust, from behind the fence.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------- 


	13. Harry's Arrival

He pulled her inside in mid liplock, in from the doorway –  
  
Hermione didn't remember much else, other than that she lost control – she had always prided herself on being above hormone-raging mood-swinging teens (and people far beyond their teenage years that really shouldn't be experiencing the same issues), but she just – lost control, as something else took over – as her want and desire for love, love that she didn't have at Hogwarts, back when she saw almost all guys as immature and focused only on schoolwork.  
  
She pinned the Heir of Slytherin against a wall, an elbow against the wall as she rested a hand on his pale bald head, the other hand gripping his shoulder. Even through the lust clouding her mind, she really didn't think he'd respond...but as his arms were around her, he entangled a hand in her hair, stroking her bushy chestnut hair absent-mindedly, the other arm around the small of her back. The Dark Lord explored with his tongue his bride's mouth, her lips, her teeth, the fleshy tissue of her inside cheeks, her own tongue...part of him, the Tom Riddle part, was acting like a teen...making out with someone he loved...the other part, the Lord Voldemort part, was disgusted at this – he wasn't a brainless teen...he had more sense than this – what if anyone found out...but the Tom Riddle voice took over, saying it felt so right, that hell, he had raped women younger than her before...and suddenly kissing his wife was a problem?  
  
Finally he turned his head, breaking free of the sensuous kiss...he needed to breathe. Breathing as if he had just run a mile, he noticed Hermione looked calmer...she was smiling faintly at him, as if surprised he could kiss like that.  
  
"Am I that bad?" he asked, seeing her looking at him curiously, surprised...  
  
"No," she said breathlessly. He noted her tongue flick out to slowly lick spit off her lips. "No – not at all. I just thought...never mind. I'm hungry."  
  
That night, they fell asleep in each other's arms...Hermione fell asleep immediately, resting her head against his bare chest, letting the steady lub-dub lub-dub of his heart lull her to sleep. The heart no one thought he possessed. This marriage was everything she wanted it to be. She just hoped it would stay that way.  
  
By contrast, Tom stayed up into the small hours of morning, absent-mindedly stroking his wife's bushy hair. Over and over, a single question played in his mind... 'Am I going soft?' he thought...Going out of his way to get sweets for his wife, kissing, helping put dinner on the table...civil conversations...what had gotten into him? Just one damn woman out of so many, and this is what happened to him? All these years he had committed nearly every crime possible, broken nearly every Wizard Law, broken every single Commandment, and suddenly – he just snaps and becomes yet another loving, nice, affectionate, caring soulmate for somebody? What the hell was a kind of life like that? He had gotten so soft in just a few days...his heart had gone from cold steel to a pillow, a goose-feather stuffed pillow, much like the one underneath his head at the moment. His Death Eaters would turn from him, possibly turn against him...people would laugh at him...no, no, this couldn't be happening...  
  
His only small consolation was that while she was gone, he /did/ go out on another raid, and killed quite a few and ruined quite a few lives...even if he didn't enjoy it much as he usually did. And finally he fell asleep.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
The very next morning, while his best friend and arch-nemesis awoke in each other's arms, Harry awoke from under his tree in a not-too-distant forest. His clothes were damp with dew, but he did yet another drying charm on them, so his clothes didn't get taken over by mildew. Not that it did any good...an hour later on his days-long flight to find Sirius, it poured. Rain pounded down from the grey sky and thunder boomed far off. Concerned about being struck by lightening, Harry reluctantly dived down to the ground, got off his broomstick, and continued at a slower pace, walking.  
  
As he walked, each step echoed an on-going chant in his head that motivated him towards his goal – 'Must find Sirius. Alive. Sirius is alive. Must find Sirius.' He didn't know how to explain it- it started out with many thoughts in his head, many mixed emotions and feelings concerning his godfather, a never-ending circle of thoughts...as he got tired and more weary, it shortened...shortened down to this chant.  
  
Around two, he was walking down a street near a hundred yards from the newly-wed couple. Dragging his feet, soaked to the bone with the insisting chilly rain, looking up at a sky that was dark gray, offering as much light as dusk does.  
  
Just as he was about to reach the cemetery-like black wrought iron fence, he heard pops all around him – like people apparating. And sure enough...  
  
Harry pulled out his wand as in seconds, Harry found a semi-circle of his enemies in front of him...everyone who had gone out of their way to mess with his life...All there. Everyone except Voldemort himself, and the Dursleys. Umbridge. Draco. Lucius. Snape. Bellatrix. Wormtail. Of course, there were others; but these enemies had done him the most damage over the years – making his classes difficult, killing his loved ones, humiliating him, bringing about Tom Riddle and the basilisk, insulting him, making fun of his past, his parents, his Gryffindor-ism. With the exception of Draco, they were all adults – who had fucked with his life since he was just a kid. All around him, he saw memories playing out as he looked into their eyes, and the smirks and unpleasant grins only made it worse- it was as if they knew they had it in for him, or that they knew something he didn't know...  
  
And six wands were pointed at his chest. Harry didn't even want to think of what they were capable of...six against one. And the great Harry Potter, Boy- Who-Lived, holding his wand in his right hand, flung it on the ground – didn't drop his wand as if it slipped out of his fingers, but flung it in a sign of surrender. Of defeat.  
  
It hurt. He felt shame in such a gesture, in surrendering, after everything. But he had to. The fact was, he was outnumbered six to one, and they knew more spells, had Dark Arts capabilities he didn't even want to think of. He just wanted to stare at the ground, to disappear, to fade away and appear across the world. As it was, he merely met every pair of eyes with his, determined not to back down. Snape for a brief moment looked concerned...Umbridge cleared her throat...Wormtail ducked his head, muttering something about a bond, and James...Bellatrix almost giggled in glee...the Malfoys were smirking, barely holding back laughter.  
  
Lucius and Snape nodded and stepped forward, Lucius on his left, Snape on his right – they each bound a wrist to Harry's, and the others trailed behind, opening the gate.  
  
"You think he'll be put in the dungeon?" Lucius asked over Harry's head.  
  
"If she doesn't make it too difficult," Snape said. "Five galleons that she will."  
  
"And five galleons that he won't bother listening to the bitch," Lucius drawled.  
  
Harry stared between them confused.../she/ ??  
  
In a moment, his question was answered, as halfway to the front door, it opened, and two people stepped out – Harry'd recognize their silhouettes anywhere, but didn't process it, not until they approached their group.  
  
It was the smart and only female member of the Golden Trio, and his enemy of many years...he in a black trailing robe as usual, contrasting sharply against his albino skin, and she in jeans and a pale yellow sweater, with her bushy hair flying loose behind her back...her hand resting in the crook of his arm as they approached rather slowly, like a famous couple in old royal England times, walking down the crimson carpet, like the King and Queen.  
  
The rain still poured down in sheets, but it was as if no one cared. Harry was as soaked as a drowned rat, hair lying flat for once. Lucius' blonde hair and Snape's onyx hair was plastered to their heads, weighed down by water, raindrops dripping down Snape's huge nose. Wormtail, Umbridge, and Hermione, with rather curly/frazzled hair, felt their hair actually straighten somewhat, hanging limp against their faces. Of course, Draco's and Bella's hair was so gelled the pouring sheets of chilly rain had no affect – rain dripped down Voldemort's bald head. Robes, shirts, pants, lay plastered to their owner's skin, weighed down by rain, cold rain causing goose-bumps to rise on the skin...boots and shoes clogged with water...but everyone ignored it...  
  
Harry flexed violently against his bonds, but Lucius and Snape held him back. Whether he meant to hug his best friend, strangle Voldemort, retrieve his wand, or try some failed escape attempt in rescuing her was unclear, even to him.  
  
Harry's eyebrows shot up behind his fringe...was this his Hermione? No....No....No... She was grinning at him, like when they met up at Kings Cross Station last year after summer break...like she was glad to see him. Meanwhile, Voldemort was smirking in a way meaning that he had it in for him.  
  
He was unaware of the pairs of eyes on him, as he struggled to try and grasp how this happened...  
  
He would've thought Voldemort had captured her to bait him, but no – that was Sirius. /Speaking of Sirius, where was he?/ Harry thought. And, Hermione didn't look upset, broken, hurt, or otherwise suffering...rather, she had a look in her eyes as she glanced at Voldemort...the same look Harry had seen her wear around Viktor Krum, or Lockhart...she had worn the same look at the end of seventh year as she kissed him goodbye...  
  
He broke out of his reverie by Wormtail, who was closest to Voldemort. The rat bent down, kissing his master's robes, before straightening and bowing deeply to Hermione. Harry watched in awe as Umbridge, Bellatrix, Draco, and even Lucius and Snape kissed Voldemort's robes before sinking in a deep, unmistakable bow toward Hermione; as if she was their queen. Harry's eyebrow's shot up in shock, pondering what this might mean.  
  
His mind spun, as he tried to grasp what he was seeing. He was seeing one thing, but his mind blatantly refused to accept it...no, this could never happen...this was his Hermione, his school friend...he had had feelings for her since breaking up with Cho in fourth year, but he had refused to show it, as it might attract Voldemort to her, just like all his other loved ones...and he had always thought she preferred Ron...although the Trio never mentioned anything, they were good friends and well, puberty came, and suddenly they were attracted in the opposite sex...  
  
Harry blinked, seeing a gold flicker of light reflecting from Hermione's left hand...she's /married?/ Harry thought. /To WHO?/ And then Voldemort, as if sensing his gaze, held up his left hand - he had an identical gold band.  
  
His worst fears were confirmed. His best friend, whom he had spent all these years with, visited, faced dangers with, went to classes with...was this a spur of the moment thing, or did she secretly hold loyalties toward Voldemort all along? Was she really trying to get him to face Voldemort and die? No...Hermione wouldn't do that...she hated Voldemort and his bigot criminal murdering followers as much as he did...didn't she? And now...she was married to /him/, of all things...He couldn't help thinking that she would've chosen him or Ron, that if only he had bothered asking her in those three long years, shown a sign of his affection, she would've been with him now. The war in his opinion was over. She held invaluable information within her head...it was only too easy for Voldemort to find out about the Order, about the DA, about him, about the visions, Occlumency, Snape's espionage-work, Dumbledore...everything. The world would fall. And be wrapped around Lord Voldemort's little finger.  
  
Harry to all appearances looked broken. Crestfallen. Staring down at the ground, his face contorted in an expression of helplessness, as if he had lost all hope. He blinked back tears, not caring anymore. He was as good as dead. Surrounded by enemies, people who didn't care if he lived or died, who would if they could, personally see to his untimely death.  
  
Hermione embraced him, hugging him like a brother – however the two Death Eaters restraining him prevented him from hugging her back, but she didn't seem to mind. Harry didn't flinch, didn't lean towards her, or show any other sign of noticing.  
  
"It's so good to see you, Harry!" Hermione said cheerily, before stepping back, beside her partner, swatting him on the back. "Be nice," she said, and he rolled his eyes at her. Harry would've found it funny in any other situation...they sounded like an old married couple...but given who it was, he winced, as if witnessing a friend stuck way below the belt.  
  
"Hello, Potter," Voldemort whispered stiffly, although sounding horribly like Hannibal Lector in /Silence of the Lambs/ - all it needed was the washing-hands motion. Hermione couldn't resist snorting at that – he turned his head towards her, but said nothing.  
  
"You two are married," Harry said finally. It wasn't a question. Seeing their nods, he looked Hermione in the eye. "If it makes you happy..." he said at length, in a tone of acceptance.  
  
Hermione turned to the others just standing there, and decided to exercise her power...they weren't helping the situation any, just witnessing this reunion. "Dolores...Bella...Draco...Peter," Hermione said. "You may go." Harry watched in surprise as the four immediately obeyed their orders...Draco giving one last sneering glance at his old school rival.  
  
Suddenly, she turned to Harry, being restrained by his ex-Potions Professor and his rival's father – they seemed to be trying to cut off Harry's circulation, if anything.  
  
"In the cage!" Voldemort said in that high cold voice, at the same time as Hermione said, "Let him go!"  
  
Snape and Lucius shared a look over Harry's head – they started at the confusing commands, but didn't do anything either way. Hermione glanced at Voldemort.  
  
"Let him free – let him go!" she said louder.  
  
"No – I cannot just let him escape," Voldemort snarled.  
  
"He's just a kid!" Hermione yelled, desperately.  
  
"Hardly. By law, he is considered an adult now," Voldemort said calmly, as if explaining to someone who just immigrated into the country and didn't know.  
  
"Just – release him - he doesn't deserve this, Tom!" Hermione said, growing frantic – what was wrong with him.  
  
"No. I know you said 'screw the prophecy,' but it still comes down to me and him having a final battle. I'd prefer it sooner than later," he said coolly. The fact that she was quickly losing her temper and he was as calm as ever unnerved her...it was unsettling, to say the least.  
  
"No! I - I just can't stand loosing either of you! There must be another way," Hermione argued, determined, looking between both of them. Harry was fighting against his bonds, but relaxed at that, as if he realized that even if he was caged, he still had someone on his side.  
  
"No, the war will go on as long as we co-exist. In the end, one of us will die. I cannot let him just escape unharmed," Tom replied. Hermione shook her head at that, frowning. "You do realize," he added, "That even if he escapes, eventually we will meet again."  
  
"Alright!" Hermione said, breathing deeply, and counting to ten in her head. "Lucius, Severus, put Harry in the cage."  
  
Harry stared at her, mouth hanging open, stupefied – he tried to protest but no sound came out. Lucius and Snape nodded, and tightened their grip on Harry, stepping forward. Hermione held up a hand and made an incoherent noise of protest.  
  
"Under several conditions," she said, fairly. God, it was getting annoying being the peacemaker – being in the middle of everything, having to settle everything. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, but she ignored it. "The cage can be no smaller than two by three by two meters. Harry has to receive adequate food and water. A place to pee. And a place to sleep. And he is not to be put under the Unforgivables."  
  
Harry looked relieved, Snape made an incoherent guttural noise, and Lucius sneered unpleasantly at her.  
  
Voldemort just slowly shook his head, disappointment written across his gaunt ashen face.  
  
"Where's the fun in that?" Voldemort asked. "He's being locked up, not checking into a five-star hotel!"  
  
Harry stared, stupefied. Did the Dark Lord just crack a joke? What did Hermione do to him?  
  
Hermione still struggled to reason. "It's the same thing as a muggle prison."  
  
"FINE!" Voldemort said, seeing he wasn't going to win this. But Hermione wasn't finished – she went on as if she didn't hear him.  
  
"And I'm sure you're aware of other ways to torture someone's mind besides the damn Dark Arts – more... creative ways," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, grinning. She made a dismissing gesture, and Snape and Lucius walked in the house with Harry.  
  
Snape and Lucius merely tied Harry up with a simple spell, leaving them free to conjure a cage to Hermione's requirements.  
  
Once they were finished, Snape recalled his bet. "Five galleons," he said, holding out his hand. Lucius grumbled and dropped five gold coins in his hand, which Snape pocketed. The two levitated Harry into the cage and locked the door with a spell Harry didn't know.  
  
He was burning to ask them what had happened, but couldn't find the right words to put it in, so he merely yelled, "WHERE THE HELL IS SIRIUS?" as Malfoy and the Professor left.  
  
His cage was just like Hermione said – a little rustic and crude, but it had a thin blanket on the floor in one corner, a hatch to open and slide food in, and a toilet against the one side against the wall, hooked up to the plumbing. And it was exactly what Hermione said the minimum size requirements were. Damn her. He felt betrayed. Used. Cheated off of. Humiliated. He assumed this was how his parents felt when they found out Pettigrew sold them to Voldemort, or how someone might feel when they found out their spouse had cheated on them for so many years...  
  
About a half hour later, Hermione and Voldemort walked in, to inspect the cage, no doubt – but they walked out quickly to discuss something out of earshot.  
  
"In the living room?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "Of all places..."  
  
"Think of it this way," Voldemort said rationally. "Say you're a fisherman, and you go to a certain river every year – you see this huge, perfect seabass, but you can never quite catch it – it eats your bait, breaks your fishing rod, whatever. And finally you find the right bait and catch it – you're so proud of it, and you want to show your friends and everything – show them that you actually can catch fish, give yourself a conversation point at New Year's parties...so after you eat the fish, you get the damn seabass preserved in fiberglass or plastic, and mount it. Where do you put it? No, it doesn't go in a box in the basement, or stored in your attic – well, it might in about twenty years, but no, you want to show it off! You hang it in your living room, over the mantle..."  
  
He broke off as if he said too much. Hermione started cracking up and punched him in the arm, laughing. It was a side to him she had never seen before. "And that's why I married you," she said, still laughing, and pause, thinking for a moment. "Fishing? Since when do you know about seabass?" she asked.  
  
"What? I was making an analogy to Potter," Voldemort said, frowning.  
  
"I dunno...it sounds like somebody goes fishing every now and then..."  
  
"I DO NOT GO FISHING!!" Voldemort yelled. If such an unfounded, false accusation started flying around about him, he wouldn't be able to stand it.  
  
"Alright...whatever," Hermione said not entirely convinced. "Still – I didn't know you had a sense of humor."  
  
"Ok, first – I had a friend back at the muggle orphanage who was into fishing...so one summer we ran away during Laundry Day and I accompanied him that afternoon – he kept telling me of this damn trout he was trying to catch and his fantasies of hanging it on the wall. As far as fishing, I thought it was boring, and haven't gone since. Second, just because I'm Slytherin doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humor. Even Snape does...i.e, the sarcasm." Great. Now she had quality blackmail material. The evil Lord Voldemort went on a fishing trip. Shit.  
  
Never mind, though...Hermione had decided on trying out international foods – tonight was French night. His favorite. Which made everything all better.  
  
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	14. Hermione, Harry

Siriusforeva – Ha ya – twins...A good story line – thanx! I think this is actually my first actual fic to have a storyline – but that's a good thing – it means my writing is getting better, and that this fic has a storyline! Yay! Go Sirius, and thanks for reviewing – stay tuned! Only, this is a fic, not a TV show, but whateva...=)  
  
Wretched Beauty – One of each – ya, that's what a lotta ppl say. O, and btw, you won the prize for most original name this chappie! Yay! Wretched Beauty! Ya, I'm not good at names either – which is why I asked ...and ya, I agree- have the kid born on Halloween...Yay!   
  
Rock-dadog-bitch – Yay! Great and original! And as far as emailing u when I post, I will this time so u know, but I found this really cool feature on Fanfiction – "Author Alert" or something – basically, you get an email when an author has updated – when you review, it should be a checkbox you can click or something...It's really cool...:-D  
  
Jennifer – /Slightly/ plausible? Eh, whateva – lots of fics aren't that plausible...-...Twins ya...And I agree, Voldie being red all over from a sunburn would be highly amusing...Hermione would have to make sure he lubes up on sunscreen SPF 45 or something next time...Anywho, thanks for reviewing – next chappie up! Yay!  
  
SunSarah – What about a boy and a girl? Does that work? Maybe twins, or a boy first, and then a girl...? Ha, ya – three Toms – it'd be like in the movie /Holes/ where all the males for the past six generations or something are named Stanley...and ya, he'd probably be more sympathetic and soft with her, knowing its his fault she's pregnant at 17...Yay! And as far as checking if I've updated – I think the site has an "Author Alert" thing or something – it's kinda cool – it sends you an email when an author has updated...I didn't know what it was at first, but then one day I was playing around with the many features on da site and ...ya.   
  
Iamwendybird – Ha – award – ya, I thought your profile name was kinda cool...twins? Ya, that's what a lotta people say...also, it'd drive Hermione and Voldie crazy, having TWO kids, instead of just one...Petruchio – sounds cool – is it I'll probably be way off, but what – French, Italian, Indian?...Iris sounds cool - kinda Egyptian, sorta – and Cleomenes...I dunno, I'll add those three to my running list of potential names...thanks! March...hmm...maybe...  
  
Dracodolenz – Ya – kinda cool – something good from something bad...that'd be kinda cool...sorta I dunno how to describe it, but ya...Justine and Destiny sound cool – not Hope or Rose tho – it's just I know a Hope and a Rose, and it drives me nuts reading/writing something with a character who's name is the same as someone I know in the real world...I dunno how to describe it...ya. Well, thanks for reviewing, and stay tuned for this chappie! (  
  
Brittany Malfoy – Yep – Daddy's little girl...aww, how cute...- ...Faith...interesting name...hmm...I'll add it to the "Potential Names list"...And ya, I agree with her being pregnant now – sooner is better for us impatient people...:-D  
  
-LoNgInG – Yay! Whoa – best fanfiction? Wow... thanx! Twins...ya, I actually know a set of twins – one boy, one girl. Hey – it'd be like Star Wars what with Luke and Leia...never mind...whoa, am I obsessed or what? Ya... (  
  
Lunacup – Ha – ya, I had fun writing... I could just see something and start grinning or something – thing is, like in the weirdest places – walking down Bethesda once – I think I freaked out a poor old man passing me on the sidewalk – I guess he thought I was laughing at /him/...eh, w/e.... Ha – ya...  
  
Sparrow MoNkEy – Ya, I decided she would be pregnant cauz of Voldie raping her – it makes a great plot device, and adds yet more friction to da story...its kinda good theyre having a baby, only not...haha – Daddy's girl...ya – that'd be funny ...like if Hermione makes him take the kid on a raid to babysit – then again, that might be a bad thing to expose a young child to. Thanks a lot with the help on names – I checked a baby name site but it wasn't very helpful..maybe cause it was MSN...eh. Lean muscles? That'd be like Orlando Bloom in Troy – I thought Brad Pitt's muscles were so much yummier, but w/e....anyway, ya, agreed, the Gollum-look is not attractive. To any males reading this, repeat: the Gollum-look is not attractive...heh. Twins might work...and then they'd go crazy having /two/ kids...four really's ? Thanks!  
  
OceanBleu89 – Whoa – you wrote a /long/ response, dude! Thanx! Whoa – eh, don't worry, I'm addicted to sugar and caffeine as well...unless of course, I'm not saying anything.... Ya, dun worry, they will have a boy sometime...Voldie needs a heir...Gomen? Why Gomen? I dun know – I'll add it to the "Potential Names list"...Wait- hold on, why June 6th? Is that your birthday or something? And yes, Voldie is getting muscle and body fat, but don't worry, he won't look a thing like Smokey – haha – you wrote that and I read it and just started laughing – Voldie – Smokey the Bear--- hmmm...wow...that's great! And dun worry, I'm not a Harry fan – Harry pisses me off – he has anger management problems, he's too noble, he worries too much, he definitely has a saving people/hero complex, and he's too special. Honestly...yay – FISHING!!! I can just see him as a teen, putting the worm on the fishing line, and complaining that the fish aren't biting yet...eventually being driven to just Accio a fish on the damn line... And ya, gradually there will be more revealing of his past – JK Rowling left huge gaps in his 70 y/o life – although I dun blame her – it's /Harry Potter/ and the whatever, not /Lord Voldemort/ and the whatever...Good idea about the past story before Hermione gives birth – prob a funny story or something – I mean, its like she's having birth – from what I understand it hurts –you'd probably want your mind on something more cheery...then, what do I know? Not like I've had a kid before...-. Right now, in the story, it's about October 20th or something. Yay – long reviews! Thanks! You give me a long review, I write a long response! Haha – ant bites – wait, are you on a laptop outside or do you have a serious ant problem or what? Haha – yay ants! Oh, it's my responsibility...- , um, not 'yay ants' then ...um, 'boo ants' ?? Well, I dun care if its not romantic – I need more fics to read!  
  
JulyFlame – Yay! Ah yes, poor Harry and Voldie and Hermione...they'll drive each other insane...-wipes tear- wait, they're kinda already a little mentally-off-balance...but that's why we love them...:-D – Ron – Ron kinda already found out – Hermione fled to the Weasleys after the dinner with Sirius and Snape – meh. =). Warrick? Wait...Warrick...Warrick...Warrick...I dunno, I guess it is kinda cool – heh – ya, if you have a kid, you could name it that...although I wouldn't recommend it if the kid was a girl...-...heh...  
  
Curly29 – Hahahaa....a fishing contest? Whoa...that'd be like "Yo, Potter – I just thought of something – why don't we end this war with fishing? 'Fishing?' "Yes, fishing. First person to catch that damn seabass wins!"....meh. But, ya, tea would be funny...it just cracks me up what with the British drinking tea and everything...I mean, I could see a group of middle- aged/old ladies, but definitely not teenagers and certain people...there's a British kid on my wrestling team who admitted to drinking tea, and I found so funny...  
  
Dragoness Kaei – Yay – betting! Twins? Eh...hey – it'd be like Fred and George 2! Heh... Actually, kinda weird – when I signed in to Hotmail to read my reviews – before I read yours – the MSN today thingie popped up and had a "find baby names" link or something...so ya, I was thinking like a Latin or Celtic type name or something....thanx for the idea!  
  
Kellalor – Ya, I watched Farenheit 9-11 – I thought it was entertaining, but I'm kinda glad I didn't pay for it – my friend's mom did. Ya – it was kinda anti-Bush, and the media is kinda pro-Bush, so now I dun know which one to believe – -sigh-. Wait – you have a sibling in Iraq? Wow – um, cool – I guess – I mean, I wouldn't know, because I don't know anyone over there – and don't get me wrong, I support the troops and everything that they're doing, and I sympathize with them for everything they've been through what with being in war for more than a year...I just hate Bush...Anyway, ya – I thought Voldemort would probably see himself as getting soft oO (any idea what kind of face that is? I keep seeing it on )...yep, Umbridge is a total Death Eater – I dun know why other ppl can't see it...Ah, yes, Harry with his simple mind is confused beyond belief. And yes, Voldemort /can/ reproduce...- - contrary to popular opinion...heh. And ya, I agree –a boy and a girl – one to replace each of them...Whoa, I wrote a lot – I'll shut up now so I can get on with the chapter and stop wasting your time...  
  
Chapel-the-evergreen13 – Whoa – two hours? Ya, I guess my fic is getting kinda long...hee hee – addicting...-grins- . Yay! Yes, he has to have Voldie's eyes, but as far as having Hermione's body...I dunno, if the kid was a boy, that'd be kinda weird...- but I know what you mean. Naming the kid Harry or something would be really funny tho...I'm sure Voldie would luv that...esp when years later he has to ground the kid or something...And ya, I agree as far as the Halloween thing – it would almost balance out the kid having the name 'Harry.' Ya – dun worry, Voldie will be gaining muscle soon...and as far as point #5, I agree with you – read this chappie, and tell me what you think...and thanks for the long review! :-D  
  
Lestrange24 – Actually, I was thinking make the Latin or Slytherin name the first one and the second the normal name...so like what you said but reverse...-. And yes, I agree with you over Salazar and Tom Marvolo – they're used way too much – having the kid's middle name be 'Albus' or 'Harry' would be really funny tho...although it might give Voldie bad memories – meh. Ya, and I think the sooner Hermione gets pregnant the better – it makes a great addition to the plot. =)  
  
Eden – Ya – I know I'm kind of impulsive myself – it's like I do things without thinking – I'm just hoping once I get out of teenage-ness, I'll actually think first...fat chance tho. Ya, you're right about his genes – the kid would be handsome, provided Hermione's genes for unruly hair and buckteeth don't cause too much of an effect...- . Ya, I'm sure Voldemort would love a kid born on Halloween...good point about the muggle name thing tho... Ya right now he's just like a skeleton with skin on it – he can do stuff with a wand, but if you take that away – right now, I'd say he's – I guess maybe 140 lbs...about 6'7"... so if you add body fat and muscle, no more than 240 lbs – I mean, even that would be a lotta physical strength...it's like you'd feel bad for anyone that crossed his path...=) . Ah, poor DE...being flung across the room...-author hums Survivor tune to self- Ya, I agree – Harry will eventually get over his feeling of being betrayed, and Hermione will always slightly distrust him and Voldemort, as far as not blasting each other into oblivion...O, and thanx for the long review! :-D  
  
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"I dunno...it sounds like somebody goes fishing every now and then..."  
  
"I DO NOT GO FISHING!!" Voldemort yelled. If such an unfounded, false accusation started flying around about him, he wouldn't be able to stand it.  
  
"Alright...whatever," Hermione said not entirely convinced. "Still – I didn't know you had a sense of humor."  
  
"Ok, first – I had a friend back at the muggle orphanage who was into fishing...so one summer we ran away during Laundry Day and I accompanied him that afternoon – he kept telling me of this damn trout he was trying to catch and his fantasies of hanging it on the wall. As far as fishing, I thought it was boring, and haven't gone since. Second, just because I'm Slytherin doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humor. Even Snape does...i.e, the sarcasm." Great. Now she had quality blackmail material. The evil Lord Voldemort went on a fishing trip. Shit.  
  
Never mind, though...Hermione had decided on trying out international foods – tonight was French night. His favorite. Which made everything all better.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The next day, when Voldemort was out recruiting more death eaters, Hermione took the liberty of delivering her friend Harry some food...she carried in a tray of pancakes, taking care not to sweep them with her bushy hair...she slipped it in his doggy door with a cup of orange juice, and the necessary condiments and silverware. She hesitated, and then slipped Harry his wand as well. Harry glared at her suspiciously, snatching his wand and refusing to touch the food – it was the same when Hermione tried to feed him leftover French food from last night.  
  
"Eat, Harry," Hermione said, concerned...Harry was sitting in a corner of his cage, legs spread out in front of him – she couldn't read his expression because his head was down and the messy black hair obscured his face.  
  
"Why?" he asked, finally, startling his friend of eight years. "Why – why do I care anymore? I've lost everything thanks to that bastard. EVERYTHING! And then you – you go and bond with the enemy! Marrying HIM, of ALL people! You've sunk lower than Wormtail!" Harry didn't even look up at Hermione, but the hate in his voice was unmistakable as he yelled, "YOU STABBED ME IN THE BACK, YOU TRAITOR!!!"  
  
Hermione kneeled down beside the cage, blinking back tears... "So much for the 'If it makes you happy...' thing from yesterday," she said at last, once Harry had finished yelling. Harry looked up at her, glaring daggers – it frightened her – she had never seen such cold naked hate in his eyes, envy, jealousy, thirst for revenge...  
  
"I'm not thick enough to try and pick a fight surrounded by enemies – you KNOW their PAST – what THEY'VE done and said to me, to you, to everyone who crosses their path! You know what they're capable of! – And you just go and switch sides, FALLING IN LOVE WITH THE HEARTLESS MONSTER THAT LEADS THEM?" Harry yelled.  
  
Hermione sighed deeply, determined not to start yelling like he did. Why did everything have to be so hard? Did no one trust her? She hadn't done anything... "That's not true," she found herself saying. "He's human, just like you or me – just a man with a soul and a heart like everyone else walking this earth. And I love him..."  
  
"BUT DOES HE LOVE YOU BACK?" Harry asked finally. "He can't - Hermione – he's KILLED nearly everyone I hold dear – the obvious people, but then – ." Harry trailed off, and held Hermione's hand. "Hermione – all these years – ever since I broke up with Cho – I've wanted /you/ – I never said anything because I thought you loved Ron...And then you go off with HIM? HOW COULD YOU?"  
  
Hermione pulled her hand out of his grasp. "Harry...listen to me," Hermione said, desperately, trying to reason with him. "I never loved Ron – he was chasing after Lavender. But – I – I loved you too – when neither of you asked me to the Yule Ball, I kept quiet because I didn't want to spark any more fights like in third year – and then I had Krum and you had Cho – and then, I guess you didn't want to make any more loved ones targets for Tom after Sirius, and so I didn't say anything."  
  
"SO WHY DID YOU MARRY VOLDEMORT???" Harry yelled, near hysterics – he honestly looked ready to cry.  
  
"IT WASN'T MY...." Hermione started, but broke off. Yes, it was, partially.  
  
"It wasn't what? Wasn't your fault?...Guess it was partially your fault, then, wasn't it?"  
  
"Severus, Draco, and Tom all asked me to marry them – thanks to Fudge, I couldn't refuse!"  
  
"I don't even WANT to know WHY they picked YOU, of all people, or WHY you picked VOLDEMORT, of the three..."  
  
"Well, who would you have me marry, then?"  
  
Harry opened his mouth, and closed it. This was too much. This was – this was insane. "Snape or Malfoy. Definitely not Voldemort, though – you're smart, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING??"  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry, but it's over with. I love him, he loves me, we're married, /end/ of story! I've thought this through – I /know/ what I'm doing..." Hermione said, but Harry wasn't convinced, and tried taking the more patient approach.  
  
"Hermione – look – he's messed with your mind – I know it – a curse or potion or SOMETHING...but – if you were in your right mind you wouldn't do this – let me out, and we'll escape this hellhole, and tell the Order where his new hideout is..."  
  
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Hermione shrieked, making Harry shut up immediately. "What the HELL?? You don't get it, do you? I did this of my own FREE WILL – he hasn't put me under /any/ enchantments." Hermione paused for breath...Harry looked skeptical...most likely he was thinking of Ginny being enchanted – of course, no one knew...not until it was too late. "I. Chose. Him," Hermione said, poking Harry in the chest with every word.  
  
Harry and Hermione stared at each other, holding each other's gaze for minutes in silence. Each thinking if this would be the end of their friendship – the friendship that started with Quirrell's releasing of the troll into the dungeons on Halloween first year – since then they had been best friends, along with Ron...and now, it seemed as if it was all over. Harry finally broke eye contact, unable to look into his friend's cinnamon eyes any longer.  
  
"You do realize you didn't /have/ to marry him..." Harry said in a hollow voice.  
  
"What? Of course I did...he's a pureblood..." Hermione said, shaking her head at her friend's failed sense of logic.  
  
"No – he's not. Didn't you ever wonder why he grew up in a muggle orphanage? He's less wizard than I am – his dad was a muggle and left his mum when he found out she was a witch – his mum died in childbirth. He killed his /muggle/ father when he was thirteen."  
  
"Thanks, Potter, for that unwanted revealing of my history," a high cold voice whispered in the shadows. Harry flinched, and Hermione's eyebrows were raised in suspicion at Harry's story of her husband, but she couldn't help smiling a little at hearing that her lover came back. She stood slowly and turned on her heel to face him.  
  
Standing between the two, she turned her head to look at Tom, before turning to look at Harry, and back again – it was as if she was watching a tennis match. Like she was trying to decide something – whether this was true, where her loyalties lay, who she would've married if Fudge didn't lay down the damn law, who she supported and loved more, which one she preferred...  
  
"You would've picked him to be your groom, if the Ministry didn't set down that law, wouldn't you?" Tom asked, finally, leering at her with his cold red snake-slitted eyes.  
  
Hermione nodded her head, not knowing exactly how to respond to that.  
  
"But you love me, now, don't you," Voldemort said. It wasn't a question, but a snide confirmation.  
  
Again, Hermione nodded – Harry frowned, not knowing what Voldemort was getting at.  
  
"Crucio him – prove your love to me," Voldemort said coldly, smirking in a way that exposed his two snake-fangs.  
  
Harry's jaw dropped, and he looked up at Hermione with pleading in his eyes – his eyes wide and open, silently begging her not to. He had undergone this before...Hermione knew it wasn't the physical pain that he feared – it was the pain he'd suffer mentally if the friend he had spent so much time with, spent Christmas with, stayed up late in the common room with, spent adventures with – suddenly turned on him, using the Cruciatrius curse. Because she knew as well as the two others in the room, that the curse was fueled by hatred, by a desire to cause pain to the victim.  
  
Hermione smiled – a sort of sweet, innocent smile that spoke of mischief, and she shook her head slowly.  
  
She didn't know why she was doing this, but hell – it was so much fun to mess with guys' simple minds...particularly these two...she moved slowly, like a predator, towards Harry's cage – Voldemort smirked, and Harry looked like he was about to wet himself from fear – strangely like Neville in Potions class. It was disconcerting – Hermione looked at him concerned, but she reached the front of his cage, where he was.  
  
"Stand up," she said firmly. Harry glared at her in disbelief, but didn't move. "STAND UP!" Hermione said louder, and finally, her difficult friend grabbed the bars and pulled himself up to his feet.  
  
Hermione extended her arms and hugged Harry through the bars – embracing him like a brother, like family, like how you'd hug your Aunt when her favorite niece dies – Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, and patted his back...she hesitated, and then pecked him on the cheek, before swiveling on her heel.  
  
Voldemort was full of envy – he was furious. His normally pale face was tinged with red, his eyes sparking with fire, and the room got darker – dark with his aura of black magic. Magic crackled through the air like electricity...all that could be seen of him were his fiery red snake-slit eyes leering in the darkness.  
  
Hermione walked over towards him, and hugged him too – only, unlike with Harry, it wasn't a family-type hug, but a hug you give your lover – she pressed her body close to Voldemort, feeling her breasts pressed against his chest – no air space was between them, as she hugged him, nuzzling her head against his chest.  
  
And slowly Harry watched as light returned to the living room – the black aura faded away, leaving the room flooded with daylight, the way it was before. The blood fell from Voldemort's face.  
  
Hermione kissed Tom fully on the mouth, holding him against her, and at last, the fiery sparks in his eyes faded back to normal. Hermione let go of him, and left. She stopped in the doorway and turned around, shaking her head, smiling, saying, "You two are crazy..." before she left.  
  
Harry raised a hand to his cheek, Voldemort wet his lips. They stared at each other for a brief moment, as if struggling to make sense of the mad witch that was just in the room. At length, Voldemort turned and walked out, glaring at his nemesis. He so wanted to put an Unforgivable on him, but he had seen Hermione lose her temper before, and didn't want to witness it again.  
  
It took a few minutes after Voldemort left for it to dawn on the two that looking back on it as an outsider, Hermione was trying to make a point. She couldn't crucio Harry; she loved him like family...and she loved Voldemort /equally,/ as her soul-mate. Harry relaxed at this enlightenment, seeing that he still had someone on his side, even if he was at the headquarters of evil. And Voldemort relaxed, seeing that Harry wasn't a threat – Hermione may love him, but not in the same way she loved /him./  
  
Hermione, meanwhile, pulled out the CDs, CD player and headphones, and bags of clothes she bought two days earlier, and enlargened them cautiously; muggle things didn't respond as well to charms and spells as magical things did.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
Meanwhile, Lucius was at Malfoy Manor, in a drunken rage. He was furious with that – that – there were no words to describe it. Bitch, chit, sod, whore, mudblood – no words were strong enough to describe her. Who did she think she was? A disgusting, filthy little mudblood girl, Gryffindor, teacher's pet, Potter's sidekick....who did she think she was, going after his lord like that? He hated her as much as he hated Potter...and that was saying something – she had muggle parents, she was always beating Draco in every single bloody class, hung out with Potter for so many years – what did she think she was getting at, marrying Voldemort? Seducing him?  
  
Granted, Voldemort was the one who asked her, and its not like she could refuse – as far as he knew, Voldemort was pureblood – as pureblood as they go – he had told them from day one about how far back his purebloodedness went – about a dozen generations, twice as many as the Malfoy family...he respected Voldemort, but he knew his son had also vouched for her hand...fortunately for Draco, he hadn't been near his father since Lucius found out the full story – gathering bits and pieces from other Death Eaters and other folk and whatnot. Poisoning the valued near-royal Malfoy line with a mudblood like her, indeed...Then again, looking back on it, forcing the same curse that bound House-elves to serve their master /on/ her...seeing her scrubbing the vast floors of his Manor...that would have been priceless....she could've been a family toy, and as long as she didn't get pregnant...  
  
His lord and master always came first, before his job, before his reputation, before his fortune, before his home, before his family. But, lately, he had lost some of his respect for him...because he had watched them, gathered information...from what he saw and noticed and put together, the once evil, dark, cruel, mean soulless monster he had so blindly admired and looked up to...was going steadily in the opposite direction...all because of /her/. What she had done to him, he didn't know. He had married Narcissa and had Draco, and he hadn't mellowed at all. He was still the same going- behind-people's-back-to-ruin-their-lives, slippery wizard he once was.  
  
For a brief moment, he considered, that if, well, she did transform Voldemort into a mockery of his original self, a caring, loving man who renounced his Dark Lord title, he could take it on himself. And become the ruler of all that is dark and evil, and goes bump in the night...But that dream quickly deflated.  
  
He could never match Voldemort for skill, talent, leadership, instilling fear, and the other many factors that made him /the/ Dark Lord. He'd still only be second-best, to that legend, which would always haunt him.  
  
One thing he could do, though, is make the bitch's life miserable – there was the added risk of Voldemort finding out and having his head, but he doubted that – he was too useful – he had provided information from inside the ministry and helped support funds for years. And as long as she didn't find out he was behind it, everything would go smoothly. Lead a terrorist organization focused on dark arts, he could not.  
  
Make the bitch's life miserable by having Voldemort turn against her and kill her, and become his usual evil self, he could do. Voldemort would thank him, reward him behind his dreams, for making him see the light – or rather, the lack of light. The dark. He would be rewarded – he already had money, but he knew Voldemort could easily revoke the part of the bond he had with Narcissa that prevented him from sleeping with others...certain Dark Arts curses could break that bond like glass. And if the bitch was dead, it would break Potter as well, making it all the more easier for Voldemort to kill the bastard.  
  
Lucius grinned, exposing both his upper and lower sets of teeth – almost every one of the thirty teeth in his mouth (two molars in the back were knocked out when he fell down the stairs three years ago, tripping over one of Draco's schoolbooks...he had done a complete flip in air backwards, landing on his feet halfway down the staircase before slipping off the corner of the step, doing a somersault in air landing in a brief handstand on the railing, before flipping off and landing on his face, getting a mouthful of marble floor...no one was home, and he decided he didn't want anyone to find out about his humiliating, but highly entertaining fall – which would put an Olympic gymnast to shame – so for once, Draco didn't get punished, and not knowing the charm to replace his teeth, he let them go, not wanting to St. Mungo's and have people find out).  
  
Life was beautiful. And the brilliant Malfoy mind he so prided himself on, had thought of an equally brilliant plan. It was low, dirty, risky, and would ruin several lives, but in the end, give a face-lift to his own life. Which was only a metaphor, of course – he was proud to say at age 45, he didn't need a face-lift at all.  
  
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Alright! Yay! Ok, what do people think?  
  
Ah, it's so fun writing about Lucius...the inner workings of his mind...  
  
Harry, and Voldemort too – hell, they all have "interesting" minds...meh.  
  
Tell me what you think so far!  
  
Let's see – this chapter's review questions:  
  
#1 – What do you think of this chapter?  
  
#2 – What should Lucius be planning to turn Voldemort against Hermione?  
  
#3 – Do I need to put in more Hermione/Voldemort interaction, mushiness, whatever – you know, stuff like snogging, and then the simple stuff? Or is it ok for now?  
  
#4 – Is the Order suspicious of Hermione?  
  
And finally, #5 – Anyone know any good fics where Hermione plots revenge against Snape – you know, where she and/or other Gryffindors plot ways to annoy the hell out of Snape? Or what about against Voldemort? Any other humorous fics you know of?

O - and sorry about everything with police deleting my story...well, its back up, and I'll have another chapter out next week sometime...

O, and as far as knowing when I've updated, there's a simple way to do that - click the 'Author Alert' thingie...  
  
That's all –  
  
Adios, amigos y amigas!  
  
That's basically, "Bye friends" in Spanish. Yay, I know Spanish! Woo-hoo!


	15. Waterfall

Hey!

I'm so very sorry I haven't updated in awhile...I know it's been about a month-and-a-half – so much for my trying to update once a week – it was just I went on vacation for a week and then school started a week later and I had all this work...

...not to mention that this chapter was so hard for me to write...worse than the others – read and you'll see what I mean – it's so hard to write Voldemort and Hermione outside of their roles in the books...it's especially hard trying to write Voldemort and keep him in character...tell me what you think of this chapter though...

And I'll try and update sooner next time...

For now I guess an extra-long chapter will have to do...

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Jenni – Heh, I can't spell either, and not to worry- I finally wrote more! Go me!

Sailor Moon Rose – ya, me neither... oh well – I guess Hermione found a way to kiss a lipless man...

SnapesMistress005 – Ah yes, and not to worry, the Harry/Hermione tiff will be back, in full...I don't know – she might found out about his mischief while she was gone – haven't decided yet...and here's more mushiness for you...you're not the only one to say I should return him to his "Tom Riddle" form...I'll probably give him muscle or something, but I'm sorry – it would just go against the point of my story to have him suddenly turn into the Sexy God of Hotness he once was...ï The Fred to George thing sounds interesting, but well – what is it rated? (I don't read anything above R...) Oh, and glad you liked the dinner scene – I could just see them sitting down and glaring at each other over the silverware....

Juanita Snape – Thanks for the two storys – I read yours – great plot and everything – I've seen lots of annoying Snape fics after asking the question, but many of them were dares and stuff – nice to see someone who's original! And I just added some Tom/Hermione to this chapter so ya...oh and about Lucius, I have plans for him in later chapters...heh heh heh...ya, glad to see you were reading behind the lines as far as Dumbledore – so many reviews from people asking things like "Wouldn't Dumbledore kill Voldemort if he walked into the castle?"...ah yes, Ron is a stubborn, thick-headed one isn't he? Hard to say which would be more upset – Ron likes her and is a stubborn git, but then Harry may be accepting and more forgiving, but he's kind of had more issues with Voldemort and his henchmen than Ron...And no, I don't see your review as a flamer at all – if you want to see a true "Wall of Shame" flamer, check out one of the reviewers for chapters 1, 2, and 3 ... No – I like how you tell me that my story's really good and why, and then how I can improve it .

Dama-de-tinieblas – Ya, the police deleted my story – I was wondering how many people were wondering about what happened to the old one that just mysteriously disappeared one day...And it's been two months, but yes, I updated! Go me!

Kawaii-Kanna – Thank you. And so far, I think you win the prize for best profile name – in case this is your first time reading my story, every chapter I pick someone who has a great, original profile name...

Flora – Ya, I'm really sorry – school and end of summer and everything...-sigh-...I'll try and update more though.

LyssaTucci – Wow! Thanks a lot! That means a lot to me...

Stse-28 – Thanks – and sorry about the update delay...guess I should post this one pretty soon then – sorry I made people wait...

IceQueen28 – Thanks – ya I know, a month, two months....I'm name, by the way.

Romm – Thanks!

Lady Karou – Ahh – same here – I haven't updated in such a long time because of so much stuff – school, boyfriends, end of summer...etc, etc...and sorry, but what's UM? Anyway, I'm sure it's great – my email's . And I'm lazy not just during the summer, but 24/7, actually....

Zeldarose –Fun, unique, /and/ interesting – thank you! And ya, I'll keep writing, not to worry...

Shelly – Haha ya – I thought someone would like the thought of Lucius flipping off the stairs...Thanks! And good to know Voldemort seems human...I had a feeling reading the books there was more to him than the half-snake murderer....

Crazy-Physco – you said it all in one word...

Lissa james – Ya after reading your review, I looked back over the story, and noticed that as well, so I tried to add some sort of reasoning behind it...tell me if it works. And by the way, the cute Tom as a dream...I never thought of that...that's brilliant...it wouldn't be like he switches permamently, or even consciously, just a dream of Hermione's....wow – thanks! But in real life – yes, he'll be his ugly self (although personally I think he's sorta – I dunno, not hot, but not cute – sorta seductive, desirable...I dunno. I have the same feelings about Snape. And some other villians in other moo-vs...I know. It's weird.) And after you mentioned that Harry in a coma thingie – I read that after getting your review – it's very funny...poor Remus though – getting a lap dance from a possessed transvestite Snape....Snape fics – ya, I used to avoid those at all costs, and then I realized the beauty of a Hermione/Snape fic – until I noticed there's about 1,500 of them approximately on ...and they all have highly similar plots. Oh – um, I read a Snape/Lily one that had a link to another site that had the same story with illustrations – it was so cool, but I can't find it...eh, if I do, I'll tell you. And dare I ask why a Hermione/Voldemort ship tastes like cherry citrus soBe...? ;-) And thanks for leaving such a long review...I like getting reviews that are longer than four words....:-D

Livethroughtheatre – Cool name, by the way. And don't worry, I'll update soon – I know, I'm a slacker, haven't updated for so long...I'll get it out before October though, I promise you.

Ashley48506 – A big difference from the beginning to now? Meaning like content/plot wise, or as far as writing...? Good idea with Lucius...if he just tweaked the details, added a few things of his own creation, a few eyebrow-raising remarks here and there...And I added some mushiness this chapter – I tried not to make it too mushy though – I dunno. Tell me what you think. It's hard writing something like this trying to keep both Hermione and Voldemort in character, but showing how people Voldemort can change.... And yes, read on about the Order – I tried to put it like they had mixed feelings on Hermione...ah, and don't we all wish we could be the "Dark Lady" ?? That'd be so cool, although I know many would find issues with the domestic issues that comes out of being married – and then if you're married to someone like Voldie...but ah, the power...oh and thanks for the recommendation – Miss Mina Murry...I checked on that after getting your review – I think she had one where Hermione was Tom's love reincarnate? Eh, something like that...nice original plot that is....odd...I sound like Yoda. Anyway, thanks for the names...and yes, I fully agree with you on Potter – a tragic hero he is – as Ron would say, "mental, that one"...

Goddess1 – Thanks! I feel warm and fuzzy inside now! And as far as writing – I dunno – but when I first started on , it was some Harry Potter parody – horribly written, one of those with more chapters than reviews. And then I came out with several more, only to get about 2-4 reviews a chapter...(by the way, I deleted those horrible early fics I wrote – don't bother looking for them...-)...and then there was my Hermione/Snape switch bodies one...that was a lot better – about 15 reviews on it for 2 chapters...and now this one – I honestly didn't think it'd do well, but whoa – reviews and reviews! If only didn't delete this story the first time – I had to put it up again. Anyway, I know I'm rambling on and on and you probably don't give a darn, but I guess I'm trying to say, stick with it – I know everyone says that and it sounds cliché, but well, I've noticed from personal experience...it's true...

GryffindorBabex13 – Thanks! And yes, I actually updated!

Fallen-panda-21 – Ah yes, as Ron would say: "Bloody brilliant." Great comic relief character, that one. Thank you!

EbonyPatriot – Ya, I usually limit myself to PG-13 and below – many R-ratings are either depressing or graphic. Anyway, no – I think those nutty police deleted my story solely because I added one too many of those words that rhyme with 'duck' and start with 'f' for a PG-13 rating. And they'll probably nail me for calling them 'nutty,' but whatever. At least the story is saved on my harddrive now...last time I had to email my friend. Anyway, I've never really seen Hunchback, but from what I've heard...anyway, yes, I think Disney is cool, especially now that they have Pirates of the Caribbean – nice change from having white princesses who lust after white common men, or in the case of Cinderella, a white commoner lusting after a white prince – Stupid sexist fairytale-writing people. Which is probably why my Disney favorites other than 'Pirates of the Caribbean' are 'Beauty and the Beast,' 'Pochantus,' and 'Aladdin.' I think Disney is great, it just gets on my nerves sometimes. I'm in a feminist mood today. Anyway, no, I missed Brother Bear...oh, and I guess yes, you're pretty much the only one who likes Dumbledore and Harry...kinda sad how much bad rap the main protagonist characters are getting...and no, I don't hate Lucius, but I don't love him like I love Voldemort and Snape. He's sort of a Dark-Lord-wannabe – and has his head far too stuck up his own butt for it to be healthy. He has long hair though – I like long hair on guys for some reason. Currently I haven't decided what Hermione will do to Lucius...whether she'll come up with something creative like lock him in the cell he made for Harry, or try an 'alternate approach' to someone who's done wrong – a "You're still cool, but don't do it again" type of thing. I dunno. Not enough mushiness? Well keep reading...I added a little to this chapter...ya Dumbledore's ok with it, but well, I'm trying to get her to gradually change – I can still be Moody being suspicious or something though. Sounds like fun with the Brother Bear thing – let me know when you post it...interesting story on the snake Damien...I wonder what that means....anyway, I never really thought about it, but I guess you're right about Voldemort trying to be better than his father...interesting...very interesting...alright, yes, I'll quit writing now so you can actually get to the story. Thanks for reviewing!

Kellalor – Haha – that'd be an odd chapter: "Hermione enters Hogwarts looking for Snape. She finds him in the dungeons. 'Hi Snape!' 'Oh hi just teaching class – did you need anything?' 'Yes – a potion to make Voldemort young, attractive and sexy – you got anything like that?' 'Yes – a youth potion – hold on, got it in my stores – a custom-made one for Voldemort, always been waiting for an excuse to use it...' 'Thanks! Bye!' Later that day...Hermione slips the potion into Voldemort's evening coffee. 'Honey, this tastes funny. What's in it?' 'Huh? Oh, uh, um, I, er, got those new Safeway select vanilla hazelnut beans...ya...don't you like them?' 'No.' Ten minutes later...Voldemort transforms, and they make mad love on the kitchen table." Haha...I dunno, it's not exactly my type of thing... Although I can see that being a great plot bunny...heh heh heh...

OceanBleu89 – Um, you love me a lot, or did, but not so much any more because I haven't updated in about a month and a half? Um happy early birthday, if I forget. Ya and Harry does have anger management problems - but –sigh- who can blame him? He has so many people after his blood even though he's just a kid, never mind that he's a guy, and like all men, has high testosterone. I learned this in bio class – everyone starts out female, and then the 'Y' chromosome has a gene that produces testosterone and turns the kid male (girls are XX, guys are XY) – this hormone affects the brain – causing aggressiveness (and to a lesser extent, sex drive). Which come to think of it, explains a lot. A LOT. Anyway, send my sympathies to your health teacher's wife...cut open twice...-winces- that must suck...And yes, I realize the kid can't be born on the 31st or whatever cauz he raped her around Oct. 20th...Unless of course, she was already pregnant when she married him...or maybe if they did a spell to hold it off 3 months...I dunno. And congrats on the ants...haha, donut crumbs...hey, I'd go after donuts! And they'll have sex again (Hermione and Voldemort will, not the donuts – just wanted to make that clear...-), just not yet....Oh and – that 'DO IT! DO IT!' thing – there was something like that on the moo-v Starsky and Hutch – you ever watch that? Oh, and ya, it'd be so funny if the police said the rating was too high, I must bring it back down...something like that....ugh, crazy people they are...And don't worry, said 'damned next chapter' is posted...so over and out!

Autumn – Thank you! So, so far, do you think you like LV/HG ?? And ya, I thought she'd be naturally have mixed feelings about something like marrying the Dark Lord...And ya, I'm planning on something coming out of when he raped her...that'd be pretty funny though – I could just see Ron staring at her gut or something...Oh, and good point with the talking – looking over this chapter, I noticed there's action, but no real dialogue...eh, maybe for next chapter or something. And yes, they'll have their rows – it just wouldn't be Voldemort if he succumbed to her every whim and agreed with everything she said...And ya, read on – the Order I kind of put as having mixed feelings...and yes, she did let Sirius go – it was back when Hermione, Voldemort, Sirius, and Snape ate dinner together... The chapter before that, Sirius was locked up and Snape was taunting him and then Hermione came over – and demanded Snape free Sirius. Something like that. Anyway, yes, he's free now...It means a lot to me, that you're putting me on the favorites list! Tell me what you think of this chapter – oh, and thanks a lot – you really helped.

Juli Black Potter – Thanks! And this chapter has some action. As far as the Order goes, well, I tried to put them as suspicious, but reluctant – sort of like they don't know what she's gonna do...I dunno. Anyway, read on, and tell me what you think! :-D

ArthurTwoSheds – Yay, you helped! And winked knowingly, but sent a very very short review (shakes head in Kelli's direction)...say, you free to watch the entire Star Wars this weekend? And tell your mom I want my $2 back...Your swivel chair broke! Whoa – I was just thinking, any readers besides you reading this would be sorta confused...eh.

JulyFlame – Ah yes, it disappeared, but it came back – no amount of police can destroy it permanently! Thanks, glad you liked it. And great idea as far as Lucius. And don't worry, there will be plenty of action before the baby is born...And I guess Dumbledore knows, but Moody is suspicious of everything...meh. Naked Quidditch Match was very....interesting...very naked....-

DarkDragon – cool name by the way. Glad you liked my story and the chapter....(smiles)...and ya Lucius strikes me as a manipulative man too...I could see him trying to turn Voldie against Hermione or something...although that's still in the planning stages, as JK Rowling would put it. And this chapter sort of has some mushiness – it's not really mushy, more like action, but whatever. Oh and um, Hermione and Voldemort already consummated their marriage – it was on their wedding night, when he shows her the new house and they go to sleep in their new bed...I'm sorry if it wasn't clear, I just didn't want to describe the act in graphic details...Adios!

SunSarah – A boy and a girl...hmmm...so it'd be like the thing with having an heir, and Daddy's little girl, all in one...hmmm...and after you recommended those stories I checked them out – those are so funny! Numairs-Magelet is a genius! Oh and Dumbly's inbox was interesting too...hehe...

Wretched Beauty – Yay – its back! I agree fully...and ah yes, haven't we all pressed the enter key too soon? I remember a time after spending an hour on a really really long email to a friend I haven't seen in awhile – and the power went out before I finished...not the same thing, but whateva...-....and thanks for the help....

Alright, I'll shut up now so anyone who's reading this can actually get to the story.

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Meanwhile, back in the Order...

Another meeting was being held – out of growing suspicion, they didn't tell Hermione, although that probably would've been a good idea, seeing as the meeting was centered around her –

But she probably wouldn't have wanted to hear the arguments, either.

"I don't know about you, but I don't trust her," Moody was saying. Heads turned in his direction, nodding in approval, or shaking their heads at his paranoia.

"How can you not trust her?" Molly said frantically, rising to her feet. "She's been with us for years, she's a friend of the family, she's a friend of Harry's, she's gone on the 'missions' with him – look at her reputation! She's a clever witch - she's got brains!"

"Please sit down, Molly," Dumbledore said cheerfully from next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Molly glared at his aged, bearded face, but sat down.

"See, that's just it," Snape said irritably. "She has been a know-it-all in all my classes, and the brains behind each of Potter's annual half-baked escapades."

He scowled as he received several raised eyebrows and slack-jawed expressions at this – the last one being from Ron. Snape had always taunted Hermione, but now he was suddenly praising her intelligence?

"I don't get you, Snape," Ron said indignantly. "In school you – "

"Let me finish," Snape interrupted, silkily. "Now, before Weasley so rudely interrupted me..."

"I didn't interrupt you!" Ron said indignantly, pounding the table with a fist. Molly pulled out her wand and silencio-ed him – he glared daggers at her, mouthing 'mum,' but no sound came out.

"As I was saying," Snape said. "I have a feeling she didn't just up and join souls with the bastard – I'm sure she had valid, logical reasoning behind this."

"Are you /that/ sure that she knows what she's doing?" Shacklebolt cut in, crossing his arms. "Teens can be pretty reckless – and I speak from experience."

"I agree," Figg cut in. "I live in a neighborhood with teenagers – particularly that nasty Dudley boy. Spray-painting the parks, smoking cigarettes, loud obnoxious parties, coming home far too late at night, beating up the younger children..."

"Oh – that reminds me – " Tonks began. "I went to the grocery store a few weeks ago – my hair was Caribbean blue that day – go blue! – anywho, I saw a TIME magazine on the teenage brain – apparently things like judgment and decision-making aren't developed until the person is 25..."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sirius cut in. Tonks glared at her cousin, silently willing him to see her point, but of course it didn't do anything, men being as thick-headed as they are.

"Might I finish?" Snape asked irritably. Sometimes he still wondered why he bothered joining the Order at all...at least in the Death Eater meetings there weren't constant interruptions when you tried to say something, people actually listened to you...if only there wasn't the constant Crucio's and killing hundreds of innocent people on raids and being demanded to worship a bigotist half-snake madman...anyway, back to the present.

Dumbledore nodded, and Snape was allowed to finish his train of thought. "However, I'm still not sure..." He paused, scowling. ".../Hermione/ is entirely /aware/ of what she is doing...she may be bright, but the Dark Lord's intelligence easily equals her own. I have no idea as to what she's trying to accomplish, but if he finds out, he could very well kill her."

Ron glared at Snape in outrage – it wasn't so much what he said – he knew all that, it was more the Potion Master's unfeeling indifference in predicting Hermione's possible death – Snape's matter-of-fact tone, as if he was talking about the weather... However, as it was, the youngest Weasley son couldn't say anything. And Snape didn't look moved in the least by his glaring – if anything, superior, or amused.

"I guess that's the big question then, isn't it?" Remus said. "What was she thinking? The way I understand it, she also received proposals from young Malfoy and Severus here curious looks at Snape – he merely sneered at everyone who looked his way...so why would she pick Voldemort? the majority flinched at mention of his name I doubt that the threat he would come and kill her would be an issue, as she's always been at risk – ever since she befriended Harry."

Ron started mouthing something, but being as no one was a ventriloquist, no one understood him, so he gave up. Thick as he is, the thought to write down what he wanted to say never crossed his mind.

"That poor dear," Figg said. "And the sad thing is, which would have been the lesser of the two evils?"

"Malfoy, of course," Tonks said. "He's her age, has a future ahead of him, and he's cute-looking too."

Sirius nodded his head. "Anyone but Snivellus," he said.

Remus frowned, looking thoughtful. He chose his words carefully – he remembered the Marauder times in school all too well, and he didn't want to offend the only one left besides himself. "I'm not quite sure I agree with you there, Sirius," Moony said cautiously. Sirius growled low in his throat – it wasn't what Remus said, it was more the context surrounding his fellow Marauder's statement. Determinedly looking anywhere but at Sirius, Remus continued. "... Getting married is a life-long commitment – I'm sorry, but I'd have to say she'd ultimately be better off with Severus here than young Malfoy."

Snape lifted his face to stare calculatingly at Remus...was he trying to be sarcastic, or his usual nice, overly-polite self? But going against his best friend, fellow Marauder, in favor of their enemy, was just unheard of...even for Remus.

Sirius stood up, pounding the table, much like Ron had. "Moony – what – what happened to you? You used to be one of us, and now you're siding with the enemy, suggesting my godson's friend marry an old ugly bat like Snape? Snape rolled his eyes – he was far too used to Sirius' petty insults to care He's a lowly Slytherin, death-eater, about her father's age, the ugliest man I've ever seen, he has anger management issues, he's treated her like dirt for the past eight years, and now you're suggesting that 'Mione marry the bastard – bed with him? Have his children?"

Ron looked sick – his face was paled, marbled with a tinge of green, topped with freckles. Molly was casting Sirius her best 'hold-your-tongue-you-insensible-man' glare. Tonks was humming "Under the Sea" from Disney's The Little Mermaid absently – she was like Luna Lovegood in a way. God forbid they ever meet. Mundungus was grinning from ear-to-ear at tonight's entertainment – coming to these Order meetings was almost as good as watching Quidditch, in his opinion. Almost.

This was going too far. Snape stood up, all the little color he had drained from his face – his face was ashen gray...he put his hand into his pocket, and pulled out his wand. "One more word, Black..." he said in a low, dangerous whisper.

Remus knew this rivalry all too well back at school, but they were all grown now – he knew better, he had put aside the grudge, why couldn't Sirius or Severus? And to think he had started all this.... Remus put his head in his hands.

Sirius stood, standing opposite Snape, holding his wand out as well. "Jealous are you, Snape?" Sirius said softly. "Angry that she picked the half-snake creep over you?"

"What makes you think I'd be angry with her? An insufferable know-it-all /girl/ for a wife – if anyone's going to suffer, it'll be him..."

"You take that back!" Ron shouted, standing up, having his voice at last. Molly gave her son a warning look, but Ron didn't catch it, dense as he is.

"Going to duel against me as well, Weasley?" Snape said, raising a dark eyebrow. "Sad how I have to be outnumbered before anyone has the guts to fight me...but then it's always been that way – even at school – four against one, pity how easily I could hold my own..."

Dumbledore stood up. "Ronald, Sirius, Severus, sit down! Amusing as this quarrel is, we came here to discuss the former Miss Hermione Granger."

Ron gave his former headmaster a sheepish look and sat down. Sirius and Snape stared at each other across the table, wands pointed at one another, even as they slowly sank into their seats.

"I believe we should get back on track," Dumbledore said, making a steeple with his fingers. "Now, Moody – you were saying you didn't trust her?"

"Of course I don't," Moody growled, looking at Dumbledore with his beady eye, his magical blue one pointing out the back of his head. "She suddenly switches sides without telling anyone – she could have easily picked someone she knew, someone on our side, someone who would protect her, and in time, love her, even." His blue eye swiveled around to focus on Snape. Snape frowned, and opened his mouth to speak, but Moody held out a hand. "I know it sounds next to impossible, Snape, but I'm sure even Sirius knows Hermione would've been far better off with you than You-Know-Who. She knows who the self-styled 'Lord' is – as I understand it, she's smart, the brains behind Potter's operations – so she's undoubtedly read up on their enemy, and heard about Potter's visions. She knows how bigotist he is toward muggleborns like herself...so why she would willingly place herself in that position is a major question."

"And so you're saying that he probably gave her a reason to join the Dark side?" Tonks said, a tone of warning in her voice. Honestly. Moody was far too paranoid sometimes...

"Of course he did!" Moody said, trying to convince a doubtful Tonks. "Money, power – authority over those who have constantly belittled her...fulfilling her dreams, knowledge...he could've controlled her mind for all we know – just like he enticed young Ginny Weasley into opening the Chamber of Secrets."

Molly held a hand over her mouth – whether it was from reminder of Ginny's first year, or what could be happening to Hermione, was unclear. Ron was staring at Moody as if he suddenly caught fire and spontaneously combusted.

"This is madness!" Arthur shouted. "I know Hermione, and I'm confident that she has the sense not to switch sides that easily...although I still have no idea why her loyalties shifted so completely."

"It can't be undone /now/ though, so why bother with it?" Figg said impatiently. "It's over now. Their souls are now bound permanently...how does that work, exactly?" She ended with a question, looking up at Dumbledore; and Molly and Arthur, the only married pair in the Order.

"It's simple really," Dumbledore said softly, conjuring a cup of tea and drinking deeply before speaking. "In the wizarding world, once a couple kisses at the altar, it is believed that the souls meet for the first time. Once they finalize their marriage that night, the souls are believed to entwine, or become one. It is said that in time, this bond strengthens with love – you can't hate someone if their soul is a part of you. If one dies, the other may die as well, unless they have enough strength to withstand the other's soul pulling them into the afterlife."

There was long silence, until Mundungus broke it. "That can't possibly be true," he said. "Even if souls do exist, however would someone prove a thing like that?"

"Obviously you wouldn't know, Fletcher," Molly said coldly. "Being a bachelor. I happen to be married – and I happen to agree with what Dumbledore's talking about. It's almost as if being married gives you a sixth sense – I've felt an absence when Arthur's not there, I feel like I can sense what he's thinking or feeling, or where he is..."

Arthur nodded dumbly. Ron looked between his parents, wearing the same disgusted look he might wear if his parents were kissing or calling each other pet names.

"And just what are you implying?" Tonks said. "You can read Arthur's thoughts; see what he's seeing...?"

"Not at all," Molly said. "It's not like when Harry has visions – its just like an instinct, or that intuitive feeling in the back of your head...and it's interesting...I remember back when my parents planned my marriage to Arthur – I remember hating his guts because we used to constantly argue in childhood, and then he'd go on boasting about some latest muggle thing he acquired and how he was so much better than the rest of us because he knew what electricity was...Arthur muttered something incoherent...of course after we got married, within a day or two I felt the beginnings of love – it's kind of hard to hate someone when you're constantly with them, getting to know their inner self, and you share a spiritual bind..."

Long silence. Molly's face reddened, clashing horribly with her orange hair – she felt as if she said too much, but she was trying to make a point.

"Well, I guess that explains a lot," Sirius said, finally. "Mainly Hermione standing up for him, proclaiming her love of the monster after just a few days, and everything..."

"Black, you do realize how much they argued last time we were on their premises?" Snape growled. "I think Hermione may have been trying to persuade herself that she didn't latch herself to the bloody Dark Lord; that there was someone more – human – underneath his scaly hide that she married instead."

"But I gave him my advice on wooing women!" Sirius protested, nearing a whiny tone. Remus grinned behind his hand, Snape sneered. They knew Sirius as being the lady's man back during their schooldays – although now that he was branded an escaped convict, he led quite a single life.

"Sirius," Shacklebolt said. "You're crazy."

-----------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, a secret meeting was being held in the Malfoy Manor. Narcissa, Draco, and Lucius were hosting to some of the Death Eaters; Wormtail, the Lestranges, Umbridge, Avery, Nott, Macnair, Goyle, and Crabbe were all there, as well as some others. They were all sitting in the Malfoy parlor; it would have been a space problem in many other houses, except this one – the entire Order could've been in the parlor too and there'd still be space left-over.

"I don't trust her," the older Malfoy was saying. "She's turned our Lord into some sort of he shuddered human."

Almost everyone there, being weak-minded idiots as they are, nodded. Malfoy could've said anything and they'd agreed with him; even if they weren't afraid that Malfoy would curse and hex their families, it was just so much easier to follow authority instead of pave one's own path and be forced to make one's own decisions, which could lead to failure. It was this that made them targets as Death Eaters – Voldemort prized those who would be loyal to him, and not go against his decisions.

"Wait just a minute," Bella said shrilly. "He was human to start with – heir of the Slytherin family – I don't know what happened to him, but he's still human."

This news surprised everyone there – people turned heads to look in her direction. It was just Voldemort seemed so – beyond human. He held no emotion, killed without mercy, killed many, was their master, looked so much different, was never seen eating, sleeping, or partaking in usual human-like behaviors, he just seemed like a cold heartless man somehow above human that they blindly followed out of fear...

Bella even looked somewhat surprised with herself, but she had always disliked Malfoy – it was better for her ego not to go along with what the blonde nut had said, and come up with some argument against him - to go against with what he said, to argue her opinion, show that he wasn't the only one present possessing a mind of their own.

"What are you saying?" Lucius responded. "Ah, but of course...the female mind – always optimistic, seeking out the beauty in everything, and possibly telling lies when it can find nothing there...all for nothing, of course. I mean, its common knowledge that men are far more civilized and intelligent – highly superior to women."

Needless to say, Lucius' sexist remarks didn't go well with the rest of the group. Umbridge puffed out her chest indignantly, pissed off with what Lucius was saying. Bella slapped his face – hard enough to leave a red handprint, dripping blood from where the tips of Bella's fingernails were. Lucius barely felt it, as his nerves were shot from years of being on the receiving end of a Cruciatrius...damned if Voldemort would find out though.

Narcissa stayed quiet, however; she had a double-sided personality. Her upbringing expected her to be meek, and follow along behind her husband, submit to his will...and so she of course presented that view in public, knowing that in Dark pureblood society, it would give her a bad reputation if she stood up to her husband. It was a medieval lifestyle she presented to people. However, at home, it was the complete opposite...at home, where her image didn't matter, she was no longer dressed up like the trophy wife, nor acting like one. Rather, she looked a lot more relaxed – even in her many fights with Lucius. Many fights over the years – arguments and quarrels over everything from whether or not she should join the Dark Lord as well, and whether Draco should (Lucius supported both issues), to petty every-day things like how much money they would bribe Fudge with to keep their outer image.

Lucius had crucio-ed her several times in their marriage in the heat of an argument, only to rape her later when anger gave way to lust. Despicable man, he was. And all because of an arranged marriage – somehow the Blacks thought the Malfoys to be a good match, despite what she saw at school – Sirius and her bethrothed paired off against each other. The only, the one and only good thing she got out of the marriage was Draco. Who had also been crucio-ed by his father, starting at an early age – they had never been close, in fact, she suspected Draco hated the man...

Unfortunately, the only way out of this marriage was death. She wasn't willing to die. To do so would be leaving the only light of her life, Draco – with her husband...no one deserved that. If Voldemort ever wanted an apprentice, Lucius would probably top the list by far...sometimes she even wondered if Voldemort was really, the worse of the two evils...at least people feared Voldemort and saw him as a psycho killer. Lucius was similar, but held his power in the ministry – people looked up to him, respected him, went out of their way for him – just a few galleons here and there – no one would suspect such an insider in the ministry, such a seemingly trustworthy man to be basically, Voldemort Junior.

"I think this mudblood is good for our Lord," Bella said. "He can acquire so much information about the other side, it's breaking Harry even more, being that he took the woman ickle Harry loved, and being that I believe our Lord is human, I believe it's good that he has this mudblood girl – she can do his cooking, cleaning, provide him pleasure whenever he so desires, and what's more, she can someday provide him with an heir."

"Haven't you noticed him growing softer?" Lucius asked softly. "He lets her makes decisions, goes along with what she says, lets him undo some of his work..."

"And just how would you know?" Bella said. "We only see him at Death-Eater meetings."

"Surely even you remember our little encounter with Potter?" Lucius said, raising a blonde eyebrow.

"Of course I do," Bella said. "And as I recall, you told me she went along with him – caging Harry. She argued, but he wouldn't have it any other way. The Dark Lord getting softer – Lucius, you're priceless," Bella said, giggling.

Lucius frowned. He had gathered them to go along with what he was doing, and he was quickly losing them to Bella. Stupid Death Eaters. Whoever came up with that name anyway? Then again, maybe he didn't want to know...

"I've got to go," Umbridge said. "I found a delightful sale on blood-pens back in Knock-turn Alley – mine got all worn out during student's detentions three years ago – and I never replaced them."

"Ya so do I," Bella said. "Have to go, I mean. I don't care for your nasty vampire pens...unless you used them on Harry that is...Umbridge nodded...Oh, well in that case, never mind what I said about them being nasty..."

Wormtail was the first to notice it; no surprise, being how much he had been with the Dark Lord – before he even rose from the cauldron at the end of Harry's fourth year – he grabbed his left forearm, shaking all over... he didn't scream, which was surprising, considering it was Wormtail, but he squeaked, and was covered in beads of sweat.

Crabbe and Goyle felt it next – Goyle let out an 'eep,' Crabbe jumped, and stared in confusion at his forearm for a few seconds.

Last to feel it was Bella and Lucius – they had been too used to it, too used to pain, to feel it much. After awhile, you just got used to the mark burning on your arm...

So in unison the group dissapparated, appearing outside the shabby, run-down manor-mini castle belonging to their Lord and Lady.

Hermione and Voldemort were outside, awaiting their Death Eater's arrival. One by one, the Death Eaters filed into the gates, gathering in a semi-circle around their master and mistress. Hermione and Voldemort had come from completely different walks of life, yet were united...they stood in stark contrast to one another, Hermione, a young witch with the glowing beauty that lasts through the years, and Voldemort, a horrid creature, cross between dirty serpent and man. Even their outfits set them apart – he in his usual black robes, preferably trailing to the ground, with maybe black embroidered skulls or snakes, or the like. She on the other, hand, preferred to express her youth and innocence; she wore a simple everyday white robe made from heavy cotton. Once everyone was gathered, as was custom, it was like a wave as one by one they came forward, bowing to Hermione, and kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes, murmuring 'master.'

Voldemort was too used to this to care, but Hermione looked surprised – she had requested they bow to her instead, but it was still highly disconcerting to have someone like Draco, Lucius or Snape irritably dip their head, barely bending their spines towards her, yet unmistakably a bow...as far as the others, she expected it, but it was just – after all these years, she knew the Malfoys and her Potions professor so well, knew them to have huge egos, sort of an "I take orders from no one" attitude, yet here they were, bowing to her, as if she was a queen and them but lowly peasants. She could get used to this power thing, she thought briefly, before thinking back to history class – how many times muggles and wizards with power had abused it...

...Speaking of which, Voldemort rested a hand on her shoulder – the weight on her shoulder was reassuring, and he felt her tense muscles relax beneath his hand.

"You will be detailing the manor and lawn today," Voldemort hissed. At this order, several Death Eaters looked confused that they were not plotting more evil plans, or going out raiding; some nodded dully – Lucius opened his mouth to protest, but Voldemort whipped out his wand and silencio-ed him. The Heir of Slytherin continued, "It is your headquarters, as well as your masters' home. Hermione shall assign jobs to you, and overlook everything afterwards. I want this place spotless before anyone leaves."

He motioned at Hermione. She looked around, surveying the Death Eaters, as if sizing them up for the chores...making very broad generalizations, the women probably knew more of fashion, the men more on yards and basics...still, this public speaking took getting used to. She didn't mind raising her hand in class – then no one was really listening, she was only speaking a sentence or two, and she knew that what she was saying was right – in lessons it was just cold fact she knew off the top of her head.

But speaking in public – persuading a group of people, voicing an idea or opinion, or a call to action – that she wouldn't be able to do – when someone could have a different way of thought, when it was her own voice speaking, her own words, not from a textbook.

But there was a difference between making a speech and telling someone what to do. This power thing was nice though – getting things done, having people bend to her will...it was hard not to like, even for someone like her. And people couldn't insult her or tell her to shut up that way, either...if only her nagging conscience didn't tell her it was wrong somehow...

"Lucius, Severus, Draco, MacNair, Karkaroff – each of you pick a floor and she counted the male Death Eaters, came up with forty aside from the five she named eight males to help you. Anything you see necessary – dusting, fixing water damage, conjuring furniture, whatever. Use the mirror in the living room to get to the rest of the house. Then go out in the yard, and just make it look nice. You're dismissed."

The two blonde Malfoys, her ex-Potions professor, Buckbeak's executor, and Headmaster of Durmstrang stared at her for a few seconds, unused to and most unwilling to take orders from her, before reluctantly turning and muttering to the other Death Eaters (MacNair was kind enough to take the silencio charm off of his old friend Lucius), gathering a group to go with, discussing who takes what floor...Hermione waited until they all left, leaving only the select few female Death-Eaters – six.

"I want you six going through the rooms after they're cleaned, doing the final touches – just make it look like home – rugs, lights, paintings, trim, alignment, mirrors, windows - black, green, silver, gold, burgundy, royal blue – whatever - we can always change it later. Bella's in charge. Just anything you see necessary that the men missed. Oh and out in the yard, flowers, a garden, fish pond – the pretty details men tend to forget. You're dismissed."

The Death Eater women looked at each other, and back at Hermione. Hermione smiled, and motioned for them to go, before turning to her husband beside her.

Judging by her expectant look, she was asking for his approval. "Very well," he said. "As long as afterward we can change it as we see fit."

Hermione noticed how one, he actually complimented her, and two, he said 'we,' not 'I.' Maybe there was a way to change a man..."So you think I did ok?" Hermione asked. She hadn't really given orders before – only to dismiss the Death Eaters, or instruct Snape and Malfoy Sr. on the cage specifications for her friend.

"For your first time, yes," Voldemort said stiffly. "Nice move with the appointing leaders to floors...Although I would've been more specific – give a list of things I want done to the appointed leaders, and threaten a well-placed Crucio if I'm not entirely satisfied with the finished product."

"Yes, well, I'm trying to avoid that," Hermione said crossly. "I'd rather not go to Azkaban for life, let alone cause anyone that much pain." She softened her voice so much that even with serpent-hearing, he had to strain to hear the last part. "No one deserves that. No one."

There was an awkward silence between them, so Voldemort changed the subject off of its dangerous territory. "I'm curious as to why you delegated my witches to the décor?" he asked.

Hermione looked grateful at the subject-change. "Well, I thought, usually women have a far better eye and taste for that type of thing than men. And I highly doubt someone like Wormtail would be capable of designing a room, knowing the right spells, with the complimentary colors and a right look..."

Voldemort snorted, picturing Wormtail struggling to conjure curtains or something...he could kill thirteen people with one curse, but he didn't even know the simple Scourgify charm.

Hermione smiled faintly and looked past the house at the woods, thoughtfully. "What's down there?" she asked.

"As I last recall, a stream of sorts," he said. "Although I haven't been here in years."

"We have time for a walk, don't we?" Hermione asked. "Away from the Fab Five?" He stared, not having a clue what the hell she was talking about. "Oh," Hermione said quickly, seeing this was yet another muggle thing above most wizards' heads. "Muggles have a TV show where this group of gay men, called the Fab Five, go in and spend two days making a guy's house look nice."

"Muggles have far too much time on their hands," Voldemort said shortly. "But yes, let's get away for a bit – I'd give them about two and a half hours..."

"Three hours," Hermione said.

"You're on," he said. "I'd bet galleons, but we share the money..."

"I win, Harry goes free immediately. You win, he's stuck in the cage until you two have the final mêlée," Hermione said, confident she'd win, and her friend would soon be back with the Order.

"What?" Voldemort sputtered. A smile crept across face though, at the thought of Harry stuck in the cage for eternity, only to come out and die at his hand... "Deal," he said, and they shook hands on the bet. He knew his Death-Eaters – he was confident it would only take them two-and-a-half hours – after all, they had magic on their side, and it doesn't take long to do one floor – aside from sheer size, that is.

Hermione started down the woods by the house, but her lover reached out, grabbing her arm.

"Just a minute," he said. "I want to show you something...if you don't mind..."

He brought his black silk handkerchief (with a silver embroidered "L.V." monogram in the corner) out of an inside robe pocket, to blind-fold Hermione with. He raised a thin dark eyebrow, in question.

Hermione looked into his pale reptilian face, his red eyes – normally so cold and heartless, now she saw a glint of mischief in his cat-like orbs, similar to Fred and George when they came up with an idea to annoy Filch...she peered penetratingly into his eyes, as if searching for something – his face was scary, eerie at first, but it was almost as if she had got used to his unusual visage – she found his once creepy-looking eyes, attractive, almost... in a way. It was just... different. And she knew he wasn't just Lord Voldemort ... there was someone underneath – Tom Marvolo Riddle – Voldemort was just the cold exterior, and Riddle had been dormant for so many years, finally awakened. Because of her.

"I trust you," she said finally. That meant as much to him as "I love you" did ...mainly because after his dark, violent, manipulative, and shady past, so many people, even his own Death Eaters, feared him, hated him, distrusted him...that she trusted him in spite of all this really meant something to him. He wasn't trying to pry into her mind... he respected her too much to invade her thoughts... but still he sense the guard she had put up to prevent entry into her mind. It completely cancelled what she said, unless of course, she was the type to automatically put a guard up in her mind, no matter if she was making eye-contact with a Legilimens or not. Not knowing whether to pass off the guard as nothing, or as her saying "I trust you" being a lie, he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Folding his handkerchief in half twice, he wrapped it around Hermione's head and tied a knot in the back, not caring when he caught her bushy hair in the knot...she had so much of it anyway, it's not like a few strands would go missing...

"I can't see," Hermione protested. Even if she couldn't see, she still sensed his satisfied, lipless smirk.

"Exactly," he said, and snaked an arm around her slender waist, not thinking to slow their pace, but he guided her nonetheless.

He had forgotten how much he liked this place, even though he had only been here once before...it was just the serenity of it, just being outdoors, away from everything; disparate to the Forbidden Forest, which was possessed with the feared wildlife...

He didn't bother to tell her about any obstacles in the way, namely a log they climbed over not too long ago, but Hermione was grateful when after tripping on a rock and nearly falling flat on her face, he was kind enough to steady her and catch her fall. Which would have been unremarkable, save for the fact that the most feared Dark Wizard in a century showed her this common courtesy.

At last, when Hermione was beginning to wonder if this was some kind of trick to lead her into some kind of danger... monster, awaiting group of Death Eaters, etc...and just leave her, she felt him lean in closer to her, and heard his cold hiss brush against her ear, whispering "just a little further."

A few minutes later, she felt him tug the blindfold off her, and he took a few steps back, pocketing the black handkerchief.

She blinked in the sunlight, and gasped in surprise.

It was beautiful.

They were at the edge of a clearing in the woods – a sparkling bluish-green waterfall forty feet high surged into bubbly to a still, gently moving stream with mini-islands of grass or rock in the middle. The light shone on the water splashing up against rocks at the bottom of the waterfall, leaving a hint of a rainbow, so faint she could barely see them.

Rocky, grassy banks on the other side gave way to the forest, and by her feet, specks of light shone on the fallen leaves on the ground.

Birds chirped to Hermione's right in the treetops – she looked up, and the flock squawked and flew away – a fish-hawk was soaring over the stream, hunting its prey in the waters below.

Movement caught her eye; she almost missed it – it was just on the edge of her peripheral vision. Two feet long, a black snake in the brush to her right darted out. Hermione saw it dart out, and bare its fangs at her, ready to strike at any moment. She hardly dared breathe, lest the snake feel it a threat and bite her; she didn't know much about snakes, other than that it looked venomous.

The common deeply-ingrained response to snakes, a biological adaptation for early humans living in caves, fear, settled in Hermione as she heard it hissing at her. She thought of the Slytherins hissing at Quidditch matches, or of what she read of the dark arts...but it also reminded her of Harry, hissing to open the Chamber of Secrets, how his talent was revealed in the dueling match...the talent he got from Voldemort. Who happened to be standing right next to her. She slowly reached out and tugged the long sleeve on his robe. But she needn't have bothered – his sharp, snake-like hearing picked up the hissing too.

He tilted his head, to see past her, at the snake raised to strike, mere inches from her heel. He started hissing and spitting at the snake, which hissed at him in return – he hissed something back at it, and the snake shut its mouth. Hermione regretted all the negative comments she had said about parselmouths in the past, as the snake slumped down to the ground, and backed away, going behind them, cutting a wide berth around Voldemort.

Her breathing and heart rate were higher than normal; panting, she looked at where the snake went, down at her ankle where its fangs had been moments ago, ready to strike, and slowly turned her head to face Voldemort. Suddenly she saw him in a new light...he was her savior...the nagging thought in the back of her head said Harry could've done the same thing, but she pushed it away.

"A common adder," he said. "A viper with hemotoxic venom – I'm surprised it didn't strike you instantly. Had it bitten you, it would've destroyed blood cells."

"But why did it attack me?" Hermione asked.

"She," Voldemort corrected her. "/She/ says you were between her and her eggs – she saw you as a threat."

Hermione inhaled sharply, trying to get her breathing under control. "Thank you," she said finally, when she felt she could talk again. It wasn't often that people said thank you to him – all he did was tell the snake to leave if it valued its life – the snake said she didn't care, as long as her eggs were protected – he said congratulations on the soon-to-be family, but that she had no right to attack Hermione – she had done nothing to the snake, or interfered with her eggs. Clearly, he was much nicer and understanding towards reptiles than fellow humans.

"It was nothing," he said, brushing away her thanks.

"No really," Hermione said. "For saving my life, for – " she gestured wildly at the beautiful clearing. Thankful her body tissues weren't invaded by snake venom and being melted into protein soup at the moment, she didn't know what she was doing, but on impulse, she wrapped her arms around him, one arm over his shoulder, the other on his back. His neck stiffened, but other than that, didn't move at all as she pressed an open kiss to his lipless mouth. His cheeks were as snow-white as ever, but watching his scarlet cat-eyes, she saw the coldness in them melt into want and lust. He slowly raised his hand into her hair, winding a strand around his finger and releasing it, the other hand on her lower back.

Their bodies pressed against each other, as she felt his tall thin body against her, felt his body warmth mingle with her own, felt his heartbeat...her logical side kept telling her this was so wrong, she shouldn't be doing this – it was betrayal, she was playing with fire and would get burned, he was so much her senior and a man wanted for too many murders to count, she was a traitor, turn-coat, whore...She tried pulling away, yet found herself unable to... he had an iron grip on her. But it felt right, even if logically it wasn't ... she didn't know if it was hormones or their bonded souls, or if she had finally snapped, but ...it just felt so, so natural. They were out in the middle of nature, no one else around for miles, with the wildlife... a doe and stag running together, nuzzling each other's necks would be seen as a pretty part of nature ... humans were animals too, how could loving one another be wrong?

Voldemort was shaken when she kissed him, and he recalled their first kiss on wedding night, how nervous he felt (although he would never admit it) about being married and everything it might mean, and their second kiss, when she came back and he gave her chocolate... sad how he could count all their intimate moments on one hand. The only thing was, a voice in the back of his head, the shreds of what barely resembled conscience, and often went asleep for years at a time...was awakened, and starting an internal argument with his self... /She's only a girl/... But he knew she wasn't a girl anymore – he could tell that from their conversations, her age, her maturity, and her womanly curves pressed against him now... /She's just out of school/... She's been out of school for four months now.... /You're more than fifty years her senior/... She's used the time-turner and is a bit older.../This is sick/...She chose him instead of the two other candidates...

There was no point in arguing with himself though...even he had to admit, what was done, was done; there was no going back in the wizarding world after marriage. That was it; the only way out was if one died. He had no intention of dying, he never had. And lately, he would never admit this to anyone ... not even her ... but he was starting to feel a strange lightening feeling in his heart ... he couldn't name what it was, because there was no word for it.

It was alien to him all his life ... he didn't know the difference between short-lasted lust, or lifelong love, or simply liking someone, or the differences even in something like love...loving family or friends or country or a lover or a soulmate or a favorite thing...He could write volumes on the definition of hate, or the psychology behind loathing, grudges, criminal activity, power over someone, killing someone...but the exact opposite of that was the unknown to him ... he had witnessed signs of love before, but few and infrequent ... all he had was the vaguest of thoughts about the lighter side of life...

His tongue had somehow in the midst of this found its way into her mouth ... opposite to what people said, he did /not/ have a forked tongue; while it would help him be even more intimidating, it would make speaking English almost impossible. He heard her sigh as he found the sensitive spot on the roof of her mouth, felt the heat emanating from under her tongue; where one would stick a thermometer if they were sick, as it was the core body temperature...A stranger to warmth or love, he had no idea what he was doing ...just acting on impulse... testosterone masculinizes the mind from before birth; the two major effects being aggressiveness and sex drive ... and he was just a man, nothing more, nothing less.

Hermione felt her breathing and heart rate raise again, but for a very different reason. She glanced at the calm-moving stream behind them...where was a bathing suit when you needed one? It was midday, but there was no one around ...their house and the Death Eaters were two, three miles away...it was just her and him, who cared?

He unintentionally stuck her lip with a fang...a drop of blood stemmed from the cut. She withdrew her lips from his mouth, pulling away, and breathing heavier than normal.

She wanted to go swimming, but was afraid of the snakes, after nearly being bitten. And as always with someone of such intelligence as her own, logical reasoning took over. The worst that could happen was one bit her, and he had to apparate her back and give her an antidote or say a spell ... he could talk to snakes and was an expert on them ... surely he would know...of course, he'd always be able to tell the snake to leave her be, like last time. And there was the chance she wouldn't even meet one. Confidence restored by her logic, Hermione took off her shoes and socks and ran down the shore, keeping alert for snakes in the grass or hiding under the rocks. She only saw one, and it was sunning itself on a boulder worn smooth by past years of flowing water.

Voldemort frowned, and whatever warmth he felt only moments before froze over. She was running away from him? She started the kiss... "Hermione!" he called out. She turned and grinned, winking at him, before running on, picking her robe up so she wouldn't trip.

He watched curiously as she climbed over the rocks on the side of the waterfall and carefully watched for signs of snakes, zigzagging a few times to avoid any. Well, she certainly was Gryffindor, in being brave enough to go wherever in the midst of snakes after almost being bitten. Of course, it had never bothered him; he taught snakes to obey him through offering food; and if one bit him, he had its head severed from its body immediately.

She picked up her plain robes and crawled over the rocks, panting with the effort. Eventually, beyond where she could see him, it got to the point where it was just a shallow lake at the top of the precipice ...shallow enough for her to wade in, it was only up to her knees.

A few minutes later, she came back into sight. He had an unreadable expression on his face...She was standing barefoot at the crest of the waterfall, face lifted in the air, hair blowing out behind her. Water flowed from behind her heels around her, only to fall down the gushing waterfall just a foot in front of her. Gushing white water falling from rocks into the calm bluish-green river...waterfall rushing at her feet, she was on top of the world...his Hermione... somehow, this moment was something he wouldn't forget.

Hermione looked down; she knew it to be only about forty feet, about twelve meters, but it looked much higher from here. And too late she realized her fear of heights; the reason why she despised flying a broomstick so much... if only she had realized that before climbing up here...she just saw the crest of the waterfall over Voldemort's shoulder, and wondered what it'd be like to stand up there, Queen of the World, feeling the water beneath her toes, seeing the view...and of course, there was only one way down. It was fine climbing up, but going back down wasn't her idea of fun. In her head, she saw the swimming lessons from long ago, back before Hogwarts...she remembered her teachers showing her how to dive.

Voldemort watched from below as she stepped closer to the waterfall, crouched down as if to pick up something, and jumped... jumped up and out, arching her back, propelling herself three feet in front of the waterfall. Inwardly, his jaw dropped. She was soaring down through the air, stomach facing the ground...and in a single fluid motion, she put her arms in front of her, hands pressed together, and put her head down ... switching in mid-air so her hands and head were to enter the water first...legs stretched out behind her...a swan dive. And she entered the water as gracefully as a swan, barely making a splash.

Hermione felt pleased with herself ... the swan dive had always been the hardest to her ... switching into a proper diving position before entering the water; in the beginning, it was beautiful being up there, wind rushing in her ears, water jetting down a waterfall behind her...but at a certain point she knew she had to switch positions or she'd make a belly flop from forty feet...which not only would hurt, but would make herself out as an idiot. As it was, she entered the water gracefully, her white robe flapping like wings beside her, exposing her jeans and white longsleeve...

It occurred to her that Voldemort was still standing on the "beach," watching her...and of course, he needed to get wet as well. Just under the water's surface, she held a hand over her mouth and nose with one hand, and kicked her feet towards shore, where she saw him standing right before she entered the water.

He was staring at where she entered, perplexed. Shouldn't she have surfaced by now? Only half a minute had gone by, but where was she...he didn't think she'd have the lungs to hold her breath that long; he must have been mistaken. Unless, of course, she was in trouble. He edged towards the water. Any minute now...he watched the surface nervously...

It was a steep bank, but too shallow anymore to avoid discovery. Hermione darted forward.... she saw a surprised expression on his face, the beginnings of recognition... and she grabbed his ankle, before swimming back out to the middle, as fast as she could.

Lord Voldemort was swept on his back, being dragged on top of the water by a mudblood.

Once they reached the middle of the stream, Hermione let go. He righted himself so he was standing on the bottom, wiped water off his face with the back of his hand, and glared at her. Hermione grinned. She took one look at him, and saw how flustered he looked ... and she laughed. A sound Voldemort had often heard when one of his followers or himself found the irony in something, were about to finish someone off ... but that was usually a cackle, a harsh laugh, an unpleasant grin...a twisted sort of humor.

This was different; she was laughing ... grinning and happy, laughing...her face glowed when she laughed, sparkles lit in her eyes...she looked so ... so, alive...

He smirked and dunked her underwater, giving her a few moments before letting her surface.

"How did you manage to hold your breath so long?" he asked, trying to make conversation... after jumping off the waterfall, she had held her breath for a full minute...about twice as long as he could.

"What?" Hermione asked. "Oh ... I sing," she said. As if that explained anything. At his disbelieving expression, she splashed water at him playfully, but he wasn't paying attention ... he was watching the water carefully just to her right...and the smile faded from her face. "What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Watersnake," Voldemort hissed.

Hermione stared at the water, frowning, eyes darting everywhere as she looked for the snake... "No there isn't," she said, finally. "Very funny."

"No, I assure you, there was a watersnake under that rock," Voldemort said, pointing at said rock. Hermione looked at his extended finger and followed it to the rock – sure enough, there was something darting back and forth under the rock. Snakes weren't Hermione's strongpoint; it was one thing where the snake was out in the open where she could see it, but out in the water, it could be anywhere...Hermione jumped and slowly backed away, not letting her eyes leave the rock.

A strange sound caught her attention, and she turned her head quickly...it was a laugh issuing from Voldemort's pale lipless mouth. Not an evil cackle, but something that years and years ago may have been a full laugh from the chest, but was now raspy with lack of use.

It was only a few seconds before he sobered, the rest of his breath leaving in a hiss...his eyebrows knitted together ...no doubt this was the first time he had actually laughed in years, if not decades...and possibly the last time he had actually laughed at something, he was Tom Riddle, before the transformation.

It was such a strange sound to his ears, it took him awhile to figure out that was coming from his own vocal chords...she turned around sharply at the sound, and it was then that he realized he was the one laughing...and he didn't know why, either. Perhaps he had finally gone mad, after all these years? Then again, many would consider him mad to start with.

"Tell anyone," he said dangerously, gripping his wand in his robes with one hand, "and I swear I'll use you for curse practice."

However, her reaction wasn't what he was expecting. Instead of looking frightened or offended, rather, she grinned. "I advise you don't, as I won't hesitate to put the Curse of the Bogies on you," Hermione said, remembering Ginny's famous spell all too well.

"You wouldn't be able to once I'm through with you," Voldemort said smirking, not even batting an eye at her warning. She pursed her lips together, much like McGonagall. He knew he had won, at least for now, and shrugged.

She swam off towards the middle, far away from the snake-ridden banks. And flipped over on her back, floating on the water's surface. Looking up in the sky, Hermione saw whitish-gray clouds, flat on the bottom, fluffy on top ... sun shone through them, looking like Heaven was just around the corner...rain clouds...but it looked as if it wouldn't rain until tonight...

She was so...so trusting of him ... she had laid down all her defences before him, lying vulnerable in the water, unable to see anything besides the sky, not able to hear much of anything, as her ears were in the water, and she'd be unable to grab her wand in time if needed.

Few, if any, trusted him enough not to attack as soon as they relaxed their guards. She looked so peaceful lying there...damn. Where did that thought come from? It had only been about two weeks, she couldn't have broken through his cold exterior, could she? Until recently, he had thought himself heartless, as did most of the world...a small stone heart made of onyx, hard and cool to touch, unbending, not knowing love, nor showing mercy, respect, or friendship. His allies were as likely to be tortured as his enemies. A true monster...

But lately, it seemed as if, well, a spark had alighted within the chunk of black stone beating within his chest. As if there were once glowing red coals, dying out into nothingness, and somehow a tiny flame emerged from beneath a coal, strong enough to ignite the other coals into flame, fragile enough to be blown out like a candle.

A tiny flame emitting heat and light surrounded by dying coals, encased in the smooth, cool onyx thought of as his heart. What was happening to him? This was all so strange, so unfamiliar...so unsettling. He needed a distraction from his thoughts. Hermione was still lying on top the water. Ah. Perfect.

Hermione didn't know why she trusted him, or even felt love for him ... she knew him to be the Dark Lord, Heir of Slytherin, the monster that everyone talks about in hushed, fearful tones. But it was as if she couldn't connect the man she married with the man who orphaned her friend. She couldn't explain her feelings ... it was all so very complicated...she had wondered if he had put an enchantment on her, an Imperius perhaps...but then, after Moody putting it on them, she knew exactly what it felt like ...this was nothing like it. She had her own sense of free will. But it was strange... he was changed somehow. In their short time together, she had already seen some of his strengths and faults...his internal conflict, the many different sides to him, the many different layers of his mind. He wasn't the one-sided self-styled Lord Voldemort, but someone else...

Just as she finished that thought, she felt pressure on her stomach. Water filled her mouth. She had flipped so her hands were facing the ground...she dove down to the bottom, turned, and kicked off the rocks resting at the bottom, shooting up towards the surface. She broke the surface, spat out the water, and gulped air.

As soon as she caught sight of Voldemort's pale face marked by a satisfied smirk, she knew he was going to pay. And soon Voldemort found himself immersed in the watery depths, thanks to Hermione. When he surfaced, he had something of the look of a drenched cat etched on his face...a sort of "you dare submerge /me/?" sort of expression.

Hermione smiled and took his hands in hers. Her smile fell as a muscle in her face twitched, as if she was holding back a wince. ...The backs of his pale long-fingered hands with raised blue blood vessels ... it didn't feel pliable or warm like flesh; rather she felt small round armored plates, like tiny scales beneath her fingers...not quite reptilian skin, not quite human hide. His nails were long and rounded, ending in points ... like claws – but had the pale pink luster and white tips of human fingernails. That wasn't what bothered her though ... his palms felt normal ... fleshy, unlike the backs of his hands...but it felt like the cold hands of a comatose, a comatose with metabolism slow enough that the body heat was dangerously low.

At his raised eyebrow, she searched for words to describe what she was feeling. "Your hands are so cold," she said finally.

"Ah yes," he hissed. "One of the drawbacks of my experiment being that I would be partially cold-blooded."

Hermione carefully schooled her face, wisely saying nothing. She knew he didn't naturally look like a snake; Ginny and Harry had described his sixteen-year-old features in detail at the end of second year. Of course how he ended up looking half-snake was a mystery; not many knew of his previous identity and appearance to start with. Many just assumed he was born like that....from stories gathered from Dumbledore, Snape, and Harry, all who have come in contact with the man far too often, obviously he wasn't born that way ... he was originally 'human' ... although how he ended up looking like that was a question ... glamour charm, snake bite, transfiguration, potion, curse, possession gone wrong...obviously Voldemort didn't like talking about it...from that she gathered that he probably regretted doing the experiment...otherwise she'd probably have heard someone mentioning that he'd been boasting about becoming "superhuman" or something of the like.

His hands were so cold... "Perhaps we should get out of the water?" Hermione suggested...she was soaked through and it was mid-October; nice afternoon or not, she was feeling a bit cool herself; goosebumps had ridden up on her skin. He nodded and they trudged through the water, Hermione stumbling once on a submerged rock, as she was barefoot.

Once they reached shore, she cast a drying charm on herself and a warming charm, and he did likewise. He stood against a tree before sliding down to the ground, sitting with his legs out, in the shade, but with spots of sunlight dancing on his bald head, sun shining down on his face. Hermione smiled at the sight of the feared Lord Voldemort out in nature like this...apparently she (and everyone else) didn't know him as well as they thought. Seeing as the heavy cotton was getting to her, she unbuttoned her robe, leaving it open in front to her longsleeve shirt; and sat down next to him, leaning against his shoulder, gazing at the calming waterfall.

Somehow she ended up sitting between his legs, her head cradled underneath his chin. He snaked an arm around her...

He had never foreseen this; out in the middle of nowhere, just taking in the beauty of nature, hearing the birds singing, the waterfall splashing into the stream, snakes and critters scuttling on the ground floor...with his wife in his arms...it was relaxing in a way... he had never really just come out to enjoy the peace of nature, the sunlight...he felt something in his chest, in his abdomen...sort of like a warmth that came from within. He didn't understand it, confusing and unfamiliar to him... so peculiar.

Soon he found himself stroking her bicep, her shoulder...surprising, but he smirked as a playful thought crossed his mind...

She could almost feel his smirk against her hair as his fingers reached the triangle between her collarbone and where her arm joined her body, fingertips just brushing the swell of her left breast. And he didn't wait for an answer, either; he dropped his hand still further, cupping her breast in his hand. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. And she breathed out slowly; it was unsettling to suddenly feel his hands on her, but she had to admit, it felt good....a few days ago she might have slapped him, a few weeks ago may have hexed him, but now she let her breath out slowly; she had never experienced anything like this at Hogwarts, seeing as boys (other than that jerk Krum) ignored her, unless they wanted to copy her homework or ask a question. Hearing Lavendar and Parvati talk about their boyfriends over the past seven years, she was – well curious, and relaxed into his touch.

She was indeed a woman ...the Voldemort side to the man had gone dormant when the charming Tom Riddle showed Hermione the stream...then as they exited the water ... she was shivering, nipples rigid from cold, and poking out through the damp shirt... the Voldemort side felt something like déjà vu, but couldn't remember what. It wasn't until she was in his lap and he stroking her shoulder that the memory arose. He had raped a woman as young as her, cold and wet, just blonder and heavier. This flashback returned the Voldemort side in full.

He was just a man – eyeing her young rounded breasts, he realized he didn't want to feel the cold fabric, but her warm flesh...He shot his hand up her shirt and cut her bra in half with a nail, causing it to slip down to her stomach, useless. The last bit of protection she had against his hands. His cold hand prodded her flesh ... Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. His hands were like a corpse's....and slowly soaking up her heat, the heat emitting from her aorta artery and her heart, just inches below his prying fingertips. Several times his fingernails dug into her skin...she really didn't like this....

He was unable to rape anyone now because of the martial bond, but he had a witch sitting in his lap right now; dipping his head over her shoulder he could see her rounded breasts, though as she had performed the warming charm, no longer dotted with erect nipples....Not thinking of how she'd feel, he slipped his hand up her blouse, accidentally slicing her bra in half, but no matter ... just a useless waste of fabric. His hands swiftly found their place over her chest ... his hands were naturally cold, but like a reptile he soaked up heat. Feeling her pliant soft flesh beneath his fingers, the thought 'mine, all mine' echoed his mind.

His fingertips circled around her right breast, feeling blood filling the tissue beneath her flesh as her vessels dilated... stroking her abdomen, capturing her mouth his own... his cold red eyes shining with lust, he felt his manhood fill with blood, poke her in the lower back... he wanted to take her that moment...then he heard a sound emit from the back of her throat, the sound he least expected.

His crimson eyes once alive with lust, died down to cold uncertainty and a hint of fear. She didn't moan or whimper...it was more of a low, feral growl from deep within her throat ...the sound he'd expect a threatened rabid dog to make, just before tearing its foe into pieces with its teeth, leaving but a bloody foul mess for the dirty crows to pick at. Most disconcerting to hear such a sound from his life-partner and the one he was going to make love to.

Deftly he removed his hands from her shirt, and stood a few steps to the right. He watched as she took out her wand and repaired her bra, and he watched as she adjusted it in place. They locked eyes for a moment; he looked to all appearances, cool and indifferent. And of course, a Slytherin with no real sense of right or wrong (such as himself) would never feel guilt or shame...rather he was enjoying the proceedings, but questioning her response... out of all the women he raped, some beat his chest, or yelled. Some whimpered and cried. A few actually moaned in pleasure. Strange how he was about to rape her just then ... and she growled at him like that...

Judging by her expression, she had enjoyed it ... up until a certain point, although when that was, he couldn't tell. But, a more dominant expression on her face was a livid expression ... anger, thirst for revenge, "you'll be sorry when I'm done with you" type of threat, or what, he couldn't tell. But both expressions cleared in a few moments; it looked as if she was thinking of forgetting the whole thing ... no, storing it in the back of her mind, as they had Death Eaters remodeling their house, currently. Damn.

She grabbed his shoulder with one hand, with the other, she cupped the bulge poking through his robes ... it wasn't sexual, or meant to do harm, just neutral.

"I suggest you get rid of /that/ before we reach the Death Eaters," she said coldly. "It would not do well for your reputation if they found out what effect a mere /mudblood/ could have on you."

She dropped her hand and walked down the patch back to the house.

"Hermione!" he called out.

Not once did she look back.

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Alright, finally, I've done a chapter – tell me what you think! I know it's been awhile- this was so hard to write – tell me if you think Hermione and Voldemort are in character – it's been bugging me...ah yes, and how should their house look once the Death Eaters finish?


	16. Lucius

Hi – I'm so sorry about the wait! I logged on, and realized this hasn't been updated since September 30th…

October, I had Driver's ed, working at the Markoff Haunted Forest, planning my sweet 16 (my birthday is Oct 31), and the usual girl scouts and piano. November through February is wrestling season – I wrestle for my school, and I was skiing during Spring Break.

This chapter was actually started in early November, but about half-way through I got writer's block (Lucius scene). I had some free time in March to work on it, but again, got so far, and writer's block again (Bella scene). Bloody Death Eaters.

This chapter is actually longer than my usual chapter – by about 2 pages – I hope that helps me redeem myself somewhat for not posting for so long…

And a reviewer suggested I put the review responses at the bottom of the chapter, so no, I didn't forget my reviewers…

And another thing – I could get this story out quicker if I had a writer – like what is it, where you have one person – the "Muse", and the other, who basically writes down what the Muse comes up with? Thing is, I have it all in my head, it just takes a long time to type it all down.

No one actually reads these author commentaries, so I'll just shut up and go on with the chapter.

Read it and tell me what you think!

Hermione walked at a brisk pace, trying to evade what happened back in the woods…he had seemed so caring, so much unlike himself, and then suddenly he switched back to his snake-like, Voldemort self again. And this time, in her opinion, it was worse than their wedding night; then, at least, he had been acting a bastard before the act, instead of suddenly switching personalities without warning. Then, it was quick, dirty, and to the point. This time it was drawn out…

The way she saw it, his two personalities would be the cause of her madness, the cause for a someday future trip to St. Mungo's Ward for the Mentally Insane. He himself belonged there, in her opinion; he was like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings, only worse, in his dual personality-switching.

Seeing her future in the neurology field, as it were, Hermione had noticed his two different personalities fighting for control ever since their marriage…she had no idea if marriage had somehow awakened this in him, or if it had been present his whole life and no one knew…and she had no idea whether it was something as simple as bi-polar disorder or schizophrenia, or a more psychological thing; possibly like Darth Vader, and his Anakin and Lord of the Sith personalities conflicting in Star Wars; one side wanted to redeem himself and save his son, the other side wanted Luke to join him or die. Or maybe Voldemort did, in fact, possess a conscience, that faded in and out unexpectedly. Or maybe this was some elaborate plot to drive her crazy and spew out her guts and everything she knew of the side of Light.

He had been nice to her, even saved her from the blasted snake, and then suddenly started groping her; she shuddered thinking what would've happened if she let him continue. Maybe he was unused to womanizing? And not knowing what he was doing, subconsciously called upon the only thing he knew to do with the opposite sex – rape?

She still felt his prying fingers on her flesh, even if the fingers' owner was currently prowling about thirty meters behind her. And she was still at a loss as to how exactly, she felt about what happened back at the waterfall…

Their house within sight, she didn't bother waiting for him, but cleared her mind against any possible Legilimens attacks, or in case anyone could read her thoughts out on her face; she wasn't the world's best actor.

McNair's, Lucius', Snape's, and Draco's groups were scattered throughout the property outside, and looked like they had just started. It appeared they had divided up the property into North, South, East, and West, and were doing the obvious yard-work first – casting spells to cut the lawn, weed, trim, and transfigure the old dead trees into live ones… Draco was quickly becoming frustrated as the orders he yelled at his group went unnoticed, probably because they were either his peers or older than him. Snape was gritting his teeth, lips curled in a sneer – his annoyance at doing wand-work to fix up a house, and being bossed around by the bushy-haired know-it-all Gryffindor was only too apparent…McNair was having trouble with the simplest of house-maintenance spells. Lucius was leaning against a tree, doing nothing.

Hermione frowned; was it always like this, or simply because it was her giving orders, not their usual master? She set her face in determination and stalked over to Lucius. No wait – he was doing something – he had put an Imperio on a wild hare, and was making it twist into grotesque positions…He didn't glance up as Hermione came over; either he was too entranced in torturing the hare, or thought himself above talking to mudbloods. Hermione stared at the hare, and saw it dragging a broken leg, and its ear was torn off with dark magic, leaving a trail of dark red blood drying and sticking to its brownish fur.

Just as the poor hare was forced into jumping over and over the rock it had just been humping, Hermione pulled out her wand and said, "Finite Incantatem." The hare fell on the ground, where it lay sprawled flat on its back.

"Lucius," she whispered, and somehow his name came out in her high woman's voice, but ended in a hiss…she blinked. It sounded almost like Voldemort, even to her ears. It got Lucius' attention though; he swiveled his head to look at her, somehow managing to look all haughty with an upturned nose and squared shoulders, even when caught disobeying orders.

"Oh, it's you, the lowly mudblood," he said. "How dare you taint our… -master's- voice with your filthy mouth?"

Hermione stared at him, beyond words…he had some nerve abusing her power like that – what with the slur, his insinuations behind 'master'…She wasn't the cleverest witch in her year for nothing though.

"Ah, Lucius, you mustn't insult yourself like that," Hermione said, feigning a concerned, motherly voice. "While I may be a 'lowly mudblood,' as you so eloquently put it, I do rule over you, which would make you even lowlier by comparison."

He gnashed his teeth and drew out his wand, pressing the tip uncomfortably in the middle of her sternum, icy steel-grey eyes roving between her face and his wand. "You'll regret that remark," he drawled. Seeing his eyes glaring into her face, or worse, eying how her chest on either side of his wand rose and fell with each breath, Hermione saw her chance. She slinked her right hand into her pocket and pulled out her wand, aiming her wand at his side; both were in vulnerable positions, were an attack to take place.

"Will she, Lucius?" a cold voice hissed behind them. Both turned in the direction of the sound, to see Lord Voldemort not two meters away – how he had managed to sneak over unnoticed, was anyone's guess. But the mystery of how Hermione managed to imitate his voice was clear – Voldemort must have arrived around then, and spoke Lucius' name, not Hermione. Lucius, who was currently offering lip-service to his lord and master.

"I am sorry, my lord…" Lucius said, not sounding sorry at all, watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye, not removing his wand from her chest.

"Really?" Voldemort, said, an eyebrow raised. "I would also ask you not to call my wife a 'lowly mudblood' – a fitting description, though it can be offensive. She is right though; you have been sitting around, doing nothing for the past few hours, I presume?"

Lucius nodded.

"Well then," Voldemort continued. "Surely such deliberate disobeying of orders should not go unpunished." Voldemort pulled out his wand and muttered dangerously in his high, cold voice, "Crucio."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and what happened next would haunt her for weeks to come – she knew one of the reasons Voldemort was so infamous was his persistent usage of the Unforgivables, but she had never seen him execute them, let alone with such abandon for law and morality, or with such malicious glee…

The smirk was wiped off Lucius' face at hearing the curse; even after years of enduring the pain from his master, he still felt the curse. Just as he got used to the pain and assumed his nerve fibers had snapped from being frequently put under the Cruciatrius, Voldemort would decide to mess with his mind, and the pain would seem to increase to what it was before. Lucius dropped his wand, and his pale aristocratic face contorted into a grimace of pain. As the proud Malfoy dropped to his knees, Voldemort's lipless mouth was twisted into a cruel smile, savoring the sight of his Death Eater biting his lip to keep from screaming, slumped on the ground, chest rising and falling with sharp breaths, muscles twitching sporadically as if he were going into a seizure. His long platinum-blonde hair, so beautiful, was sweeping the ground as his head thrashed from side to side, but still he seemed determined not to scream – it was like a game to see how long he could last before screaming.

Hermione stared, open-mouthed in horror, eyes wide with horror and fear … she didn't like Malfoy in the least, but what this monster was doing to him – no one deserved that – no one. And, there was nothing she could do. For a brief moment, Lucius fought off the curse just enough to glance up at her eyes – his icy steel-blue eyes, normally glinting with hate and conceit, met her eyes, shooting her a look. The only way she could translate it was as, 'This is all your fault, mudblood…Don't look so surprised - you knew who he was when you married him; what did you expect?'

Voldemort smirked, relishing this – oh, it had been far too long since he had last really tortured someone…

He stood over his servant, teeth clenched together in a smirk, unblinking eyes focused on his servant as he channeled more energy into his wand. Malfoy looked into Hermione's eyes for the briefest instant, and it pained her to see the emotion swimming in the aristocrat's orbs – he briefly raised the inner corners of his eyebrows in a helpless look, and she was certain he mouthed 'Help me,' before his head jerked violently on his neck and his eyes closed in pain. And it pained her to see Voldemort – her husband – doing this, regardless that she knew he did this type of thing all along; he was well-known for it. He seemed so, well, different just a few hours ago, when they gave the orders to the Death Eaters to fix the property, and left to see the waterfall. Then, then he seemed to be a loving human – now – now he was just some sort of serpent-like demon who escaped the fires below. And to think she had joined souls with, and was chained for life to this monster…

She shivered as she felt the air around her crackle with power – dark, raw magic rolling off the man beside her in waves…and at last Malfoy Sr. screamed. An unnatural hoarse shriek of pain pierced the air, and his head lolled to the ground, blood dribbling from his mouth.

Hermione stared at them, rooted to the spot as her husband cackled, and kicked his servant in the hip as he struggled to stand – swaying and unsteady on his feet, his normally perfectly-kept hair all mussed and out of place, the blonde color dulled by dirt and sweat, his face pallid in color, smeared with blood, muscles twitching a little in the after-effect of the curse…

Hermione looked between them – madmen, both of them – Voldemort's mouth was upturned in an arrogant, belittling smirk directed at Lucius, who stared back defiantly, although there were undertones of pain and shame (in screaming, being caught not doing anything, his vanity…?). Both glanced at each other, before glancing at Hermione.

Lucius wore the same haughty look he always wore around her, although it was dulled by the weary, pained look in his eyes from the curse. Voldemort looked at her, eyebrow raised; she looked disturbed about something for some reason.

She met Lucius' eyes, Voldemort's, stared back at where the hare was, swept her gaze around to where the rest of the Death Eaters were, and back to Voldemort.

….It was only then did Hermione really for the first time, realize who she had married. She knew, of course, that he used the Unforgivables on enemy, victim, and servant alike, had heard stories from Harry – but now, to see him torture another human being like that, even Malfoy – no remorse at all, he seemed to enjoy it, see it as entertainment, amusement – and there was the realization, that this was the man she chose to marry – bound to for life, this was her soul mate.

It didn't make matters any better that not only did she marry a monster; she also got all the murderous Death Eaters that came with it…

"That's sick," Hermione said, emphasizing 'sick' like a dirty cussword. "Twisted…" she trailed off, unable to think of a word strong enough to describe it. 'It' – what Voldemort did to Lucius, what Lucius did to the hare, the Death Eaters' murderous pasts, or what she knew of it from History of Magic class and various stories…

She turned on her heel and swept up the front walk, trying to escape the twisted monster, yet knowing in the back of her mind, she couldn't escape him.

Walking through the house – well, she didn't know how to put it, exactly. For one thing, all the dust and water-damage was gone. The first part of the house was cleaned up – it looked 'lived-in,' but it was the exact same as when they found it. Disappointing. She would have to have a talk with the Death Eaters on obeying her, not slacking and doing their jobs half-arsed.

Then she saw the mirror, and remembered; even if the wards on the house preventing Apparation in the house, or the charm causing anyone unwanted near the house to get sick didn't work, when you walked in, it still looked like a house. An average house, but a house. You had to know the mirror was the secret passageway – and maybe the rest of the house-castle beyond was grander than this. Curious as to the Death Eater's skills at remodeling, she pressed her palm flat on the mirror, and she sank through, just like the wall at platform 9 and 3 quarters.

Walking around the house, it really was interesting. In one way, it was almost royal - she saw the beauty and elegance in the new design – Stone, wood, fur, leather, limestone, marble – simple, if it wasn't for the elaborate designs. Stone walls, the white marble staircase with fancy iron railings, almost like the grand staircase from the movie Titanic. Cobblestone flooring in the kitchen… Limestone gothic archways in the dungeons, which were free of rotting dead bodies and rats. Elaborate rich wooden furniture. Fancy candle sconces in the hallways, simpler torches in the dungeons, and a crystal chandelier hanging in the open space where the first and second floor joined by the staircase. The living room had a comfy couch and two armchairs. Hanging over the fireplace was a medieval painting of a dragon - the dragon was currently sleeping, one eye opening every now and then, ruffling its leathery wings…

But there was something that bothered her. Of course, she didn't expect a re-make of Gryffindor Common Room, or anything like her childhood muggle home looked like, but she did wonder if the Death Eaters were offering subtle hints that she didn't belong, or if they were merely thinking of Voldemort – he was their master longer than she was, and as he used the Unforgivables (she shuddered at the thought), perhaps they thought him more of a threat.

There was an overall gothic look to the house; dark woods, black leather, dark fur, eerie shadows the sconces, torches, and fireplaces didn't dispel. The look of a haunted house from a gothic book. Touches of tarnished, or bright sterling-silver made up the décor. The wooden furniture, candle-holders on the sconces, the fireplace and its mantel all had elegant designs, but involving snakes, of course. Some designs had incorporated chained, tortured, or mutilated people…or house-elves. Dark greens made up the fabrics – the beds in the guest bedrooms, towels, curtains… Well, they did take her up on her color suggestions. Only the red touch of color was the color of blood. And someone had added a finishing touch of black roses in a skull-like vase in the foyer… And her jacket hanging in the closet, not on a hanger, but on a skeleton, brought up from the dungeons, supposedly. That was lovely.

Hermione bit her lip, resolving to speak to Voldemort about it later. She wandered into the living room; Harry was still there in his cage, conspicuous by its lack of décor. He was sitting on the floor, against the far corner of his cage, head hung down, beads of sweat dripping from his jet-black hair, gashes on his face and arm oozing blood, holding his wand in one hand – evidently he got himself in a duel or fight of some sort. He glared at Hermione as she walked in, seeing her familiar shadow cast on the floor. She met his eyes apologetically, but he looked away, and refused to speak to her.

She heard voices upstairs, and left Harry in his state. Bella and the rest of the female death eaters had just finished the master bedroom and passed Hermione on the stairs. Bella said, "Hope you find it to your liking, mudblood. We saved the best for last – the master bedroom," emphasizing 'master' and 'bed.' Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate, but Bella flashed her a smirk and continued down the stairs.

After the last female Death Eater left, Hermione sighed through clenched teeth and made her way up to the bedroom she and the Dark Lord shared, fearing the worst.

To start, the handle was a silver snake's head on a dark wooden door; just like in the rest of the house. With a trembling hand, she opened the door – black shaggy carpet. Old mirrors framed in silver. A few silver sconces shaped like snakes with glittering emerald eyes, holding lit candles in their mouths – just like the rest of the house. Black floor-length curtains on a silver rod.

His family's pictures were up there as well, including a conjured painting of Salazar with what looked horribly like a young basilisk draped around his neck – Salazar was leering unpleasantly at Hermione, and his snake hissed menacingly. Hermione pointedly ignored them, and searched for his mother's picture, which was still absent. She didn't know why she kept looking, other than that perhaps it would offer some clue as to who Voldemort really is – or was.

The fireplace and bathroom were pretty much the same, just silver and black, and adorned with snakes.

The walk-in closet was stocked as well with conjured or transfigured clothing.

On one side was his –

Long, flowing black robes and cloaks, of different thicknesses and materials, some hooded. Different designs adorned them, although most featured snakes, flames, or other death-like images in silver or subtle black embroidery. "Figures," Hermione grumbled. Mid-calf dragonhide black boots were lined up underneath, and his unmentionables were in a drawer.

Her side was a bit different.

Hers was all black robes and cloaks as well, that was the first thing she noticed. But on closer inspection, while Voldemort's clothing was cut to accentuate his shoulders and hide his skeletal thinness, her robes were…more revealing of her form. Tighter fitting. Her robes of varying low neck-lines all had various tight bodices complete with built-in corset and bra, lines and seams to accentuate her hips and bust. Not so low as to be sluttish, but lower than she would have liked – they were elegant though. She couldn't deny that Bella and her accomplices had a sense of style. She had shoes lined up beneath, and the robes would go well with the family jewelry (she didn't think she'd ever come to see members of the Slytherin line as family). The robes would be beautiful if she could ever get over showing so much of her form…

She checked her armoire, but her diminished fears returned in full. Those bitches had supplied her with not underwear, but black lacy lingerie. She kicked the armoir drawer and clenched her teeth to restrain a scream of frustration. She tramped out of the closet, slamming the door behind her.

She was almost afraid to see what they had done to the bed after looking in the walk-in closet.

Dark wood made up the frame of the wooden bed, which was carved to depict a gruesome scene Hermione recognized only because she had studied it for her NEWT History of Magic essay. The bed she would have go to sleep in each night depicted the medieval dark wizard Voldemortist killing, raping, and bewitching the "good people" in his hopes of destroying his adversary Merlin. Interesting, that Bella and company chose to charm the bed to show /that/ scene, and not one of Voldemortist's and Merlin's final battle…then again, Merlin /did/ win that one. As she looked closer, Hermione shuddered as she noticed that all of the female "good people" seemed to bear some resemblance to /her/…bushy hair, and something about their little wooden faces.

The bed itself felt nice though – black silk sheets and pillow cases, black blanket, and black goose-down stuffed pillows and duvet (with a black fur cover).

She looked out the window. From what she could tell, the yard looked fine- except with the approaching winter, the grass was a bit yellowed and the trees were alive, but barren of leaves. The Death Eaters appeared to be finished, and Voldemort was dismissing them. She uttered a noise of disgust and left the room, seeking the sanctuary of the library.

She had felt perfectly fine when she woke up, but now, during breakfast, she felt hot and clammy, and had cramps. As her stomach constricted unpleasantly, she fled the kitchen, clutching at her stomach, not noticing the Dark Lord's curious gaze.

She ran to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet as waves of nausea coursed through her gut. She clutched the toilet porcelain, gasping. Her stomach tightly constricted. She coughed wetly and the first wave of nausea overtook her, as her stomach spewed its contents in the porcelain bowl. She neither heard the door open behind her, nor the footsteps getting louder as they approached her. As she leaned over the bowl to vomit yet again, she was dimly aware of a cool hand gently pressed to her forehead, and she felt her heartbeat slow and some of the tension in her muscles dissipate. She felt weak – she was trembling, her throat was dry and scratchy, she had a nasty sour taste in her mouth, and her stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside-out. But there was the soothing comfort of the cool hand on her forehead, drawing her feverish body heat away. Another cool hand snaked behind her sweaty neck, holding her bushy hair back behind her face in time for the second wave of nausea.

After emptying her stomach with the third and last wave, she sank back, sitting on her feet, and her head hung down. A hand reached out to flush the toilet, and then to offer her a glass of water, which she gratefully took with both hands and sipped.

She turned to face the man kneeling behind her. The man who had just yesterday been laughing as he tortured Lucius. His face was unreadable. Neither said a word. She made a move as if to stand, but he picked her up, one arm under her knees, the other, her shoulder blades. Too weak to protest, she let him carry her. He held her close to his chest and she calmed, reveling in the fact that his partially cold-blooded reptilian skin absorbed her feverish heat. Even through their clothing, she could feel some relief, and he mounted the stairs to their bedroom.

By the time they got there, she was feeling herself again – just the way she had felt at the start of breakfast. He put her down none too gently, and took off her shoes and socks. He then proceeded to take off her robe (a transfigured pair of jeans), overcoming her best efforts to fight him off. They stared at each other, as she lay in bed, clad in only her underclothes. Hermione felt exposed just lying there in her underwear, and self-conscious under his interested gaze. She tried to cover herself with the sheet, but he grabbed her wrist. He raised the skin where his eyebrow used to be, and leaned over her. Then he slipped his hands underneath her, and unhooked her bra, pulling it off her in one movement, lazily trailing his hand over her breasts, smirking. Her eyes widened as she realized his intention, but he had turned away. Clutching her white cotton nightgown (a transfigured shirt), he gave her naked breasts one last, longing glance, before dressing her. He pulled the covers on top of her and kissed her forehead before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Hermione stared at the door long after he had left. Questions ran through her mind. What exactly, was the reason behind Voldemort's erratic behavior? Why did she vomit if she didn't feel sick before, or now?

Well? How was that chapter?

What do you think of the Cruciatrius scene? The house? Voldemort's actions in the final scene?

Everyone in character?

Next chapter is Halloween – I'm thinking they'll (they being Mione, Voldie, Harry) go to Grimmauld Place, where the Order is. Why does Voldemort go along? Is he let in the house?

Ideas for the "meet the parents" chapter? – Hermione/Voldemort visit her parents…what are her parents feelings on this? What is Voldemort's impression of her parents? How does it go?

Again, I'm sorry about the wait – I'll try to post sooner – I have some free time now that wrestling is over, but I can't guarantee anything –especially with my AP NSL test, gov. HSA, a camping trip, and eventually exams, coming up.

Review Responses:

Luna-rocker – Thanks! Good to know Hermione's in character…and that Voldemort's "other side" is believable…I was worried about that as I was writing it, but you're not the only reader who assured me they're not OOC…I agree with you on the house, but know if I was Voldemort, I wouldn't allow no girl to make my house all "girly frilly"…haha – he'd probably go nuts if he was stuck in a hot pink-and-sparkles house with fluffy pillows and flowers… OO . Hmmm…maybe if she added subtle Gryffindor overtones…or changed certain things, subtle details…hmm…think on this I will

LivySnape – Sorry – been visiting some relatives on the fourth rock from the sun… Oo… Awww…don't cry – I just updated… yay!

Sara- A face lift…? Erm, sorry – it's just I decided long ago writing this fic she'd be stuck with his ugly face – poor Hermione, I know – I just get annoyed at all the Hermione/Tom Riddle or Hermione/Voldemort-suddenly-deaged-and-became-sexy fics…I wanted to try something new…I just thought while it would entertaining, it just – it wouldn't be our buddy Voldie that we have all grown to know and love. I agree with the house. Glad you support what I'm doing with the characters…I was worried when I was writing that chapter…Harry…sorry, can't tell you much on that. It's confidential, secret information even the CIA doesn't know about (yet).

Magic and sparkle – It's so hard writing the characters sometimes – keeping them in-line with JK Rowling's world, but while keeping to my plot and Voldie – we all have one perception of him, but showing another is kinda hard – so it meant a lot when you mentioned the character depth – thanks!

DMHg 2GETHER 4EVER – Ya I know I haven't updated for so long – I'm sorry! I just…well, I already wrote why I took a 6.5 month hiatus (whoa – it's been that long?) …but I'll try to have the next chapter out sooner…

jr.Cita – Nope. Haven't given up. My other stories I either deleted, because looking back on them, they were crap, or I gave up on, because I didn't actually have a plotline going. But this one – I have the plot all in my head, various scenes worked out in my head…the problem is finding time to type it for my reviewers…

myob – Thanks. And don't worry, I'm not abandoning it at all – I've just been busy/had writer's block for the last several months (I still can't believe it took me 6.5 months to update, when I had part of this written in November…) . I have more time now (except for certain bane-of-my-existence-tests coming up in May/June…) .

Dawn Guavera halliwel – Short and sweet responses eh? Well, short and sweet answers…. "Thanks!" .

Mistress-of-Mystery – Yep, Voldie's gone a little "soft" for Hermione…and he's evil as hell toward everyone else… Oh, and by the way, in case you're new to "Crossing of Two Worlds," every chapter when I do these review responses, I give out imaginary appliances to the reviewer with the best name (most original, most creative…) – anyway, congratulations! An imaginary Hoover vacuum is on its way to your house now!

achilles-harry – Thanks! In Yoda-speak, keep up the good work I will….

Onigirl v – guess what? I updated! (of course this would be obvious, seeing as you wouldn't be reading this if I hadn't updated….)

Magickwitch – I'm writing, I'm writing, don't worry…keep your socks on… oh, and by the way, you spelled 'magic' wrong… O-

Alora55 – Thanks! And I agree with you on Voldemort…I wasn't so sure about him when I wrote that last chapter….anyway, in this chapter, I hope he redeemed his evil-demon self somewhat…let me know…

Lunastar 03 – Good to know I'm finally starting the HG/LV movement…if you want to join our club, we meet whenever and discuss our plans to take over with HG/LV fics – it'll be like communism in the Cold War…. O- . Good to know it's a favorite.

Eyes-of-Reflection – Not to worry, I wrote more, it's not over yet – don't worry, I'll let you know when it's over, which isn't anytime soon, the way this is turning out. You know what? I need a writer.

Hannalucky – Nagini – don't worry – I haven't forgotten her…she'll come in the story soon enough – I'm sure it would drive Hermione nuts if she found out she was living with a bunch of huge, potentially venomous snakes… good to know you like Voldie's dual-personality complex. Yes, her parents are still alive, and if I go through the mental plotline list in my head, there will be a "meet the parents" chapter sometime soon…I have something planned for that…heh heh…

CAT – Hello. I'm not here right now. Please leave a message after the beep. "beep". Alright, yes, I'm here. And updated.

Kalika Cavendish – Well, wait no longer! The new chapter awaits!

TINY TURTLE – Thanks, glad you liked it. And in case you're new here ('here' being "Crossing of Two Worlds"), every chapter when I do these review responses, I give out imaginary appliances to the reviewer with the "best" name – creative, original, etc. Anyway, I'm sorry to say you didn't win first, but you /did/ get second place…congratulations!

EbonyPatriot – Ah…well, not to worry, this chapter has less mushiness. So Voldie is still torturing his poor, sweet and innocent little Death Eaters, but he /is/ lusting after Hermione… Wait – "Home on the Range" had a villain? The animated movie about chickens? I don't mind Lion King –maybe because James Earl Jones (voice of Darth Vader) does Mufasa, or what, but Bambi does annoy me. Draco is just like his father – Slytherin junior. He tries, but when his half-baked evil schemes fail, you just have to pat him on the head. Snape though – Snape and Voldemort are mine….all mine… So you did get Brother Bear up? And you have a point about the characters and being in character…the fact that since the story is told from Harry's point-of-view, so of course his enemies will seem evil and mean and cruel and his friends will seem nice and caring and funny…I've always wondered how different the Harry Potter series would be if told from the point of view of say…Snape. Or Ron. Or Fudge. Or Voldie….I dunno if it'd be a children's book though, if told from the point-of-view of a mad psychopath….

OceanBleu89 – Her reaction was shocking? Which reaction.…when he tried to grope her…or before that? Ah yes, I learned that sex shit too – in fifth grade, and eighth grade, and summer after ninth grade...scary thing is, my sister is in fifth grade – she'll have to go through the sex ed unit…I mean – I don't know if you have younger siblings, but she's the 11 yr, immature, "baby" of the family – my kid sister – and and…ya. Do it, do it! Ha- Owen Wilson…(right? Or do I have my list of blondie Hollywood actors mixed up?)

Jaid Ziaen – And squack to you too. Not to worry, there's more coming…oh, I have plans for this fic…laughs maniacally and rubs hands together with evil glee). As far as Tom and Harry, stay tuned. And as far as Hermione and understanding girls, I'll just help clarify things- this goes not just for our magical British friends, but for normal people as well…Hermione and Voldemort have confused feelings towards each other, but one thing is Voldemort, like pretty much every guy I know, wants the girl (in this case, being Hermione). But here, the sexual part of their relationship is one-sided – he wants it, she doesn't (again, like many couples I know). So when he makes a move without warning (not to mention he's the ugly, evil Dark Lord), Hermione of course gets pissed off. Now this is where the response varies: some girls would slap the guy, some would yell at him, some would submit, some would kick the guy where it hurts, and some would walk/run away. Or if they're a slut, or really like the guy, they'll respond. Now that I think about it, it is confusing… Hope that clarifies things!

Livethroughtheatre – Thanks. And yes, I will stick with the story. Good to know you understand the time/writing issue…some people just don't get that I actually have a life outside of writing…although I do know the annoyance of getting hooked on a fic, and the author wont update. As far as the Death Eater cleaning/remodeling, you read my mind.

SnapesMistress005 – Good to know you don't mind the OOCness…if I stuck to canon, I'd run into problems – the one side we see to Voldemort in the books (evil murdering demon) may work in the books, but seeing as he's one of my two main characters, I need more sides to his character… Hermione though…maybe I did take a bit too many "creative liberties" writing her character…eh. And as far as how it turns out, I'm not saying anything, other than, this will slowly develop into something….and um, is blood-red ok? Not scarlet, Gryffindor Qudditch robes red, but blood-red?

Flora – I updated again – yay! And I'll try and update more often, don't worry.

LyssaTucci – Hahaha…a pink cozy cottage for the happy couple? Me thinks Voldemort would lose what precious little sanity he had left, if he was stuck in a house like that…heh heh…

Kellalor – Yep – Death Eaters get to clean/remodel the house! Having a bunch of dark purebloods around comes in handy…

Siriusforeva – "poor Tom" - seriously? Never said that before? Guess there's a first time for everything… he feels love now…

Rainia NyteWolf – Strange? What do you mean "strange towards the end" ? Meh.

Jenni – It'll start out a Slytherin house, but I might make Hermione change it to be a little Gryffindor – haven't decided yet… half green and half red though would look like the Death Eaters remodeling the house had gone around, putting up Christmas decorations…haha…funny how the Gryffindor and Slytherin colors may be opposite sides on the color wheel, but are Christmas colors together…wonder if that was intentional, on Rowling's part? Nah…

JenniferJ – You know what? I agree with you. I've had the same issues reading fanfics myself…so I took your advice and put those responses on the bottom of the chapter. Better?

Stse-28 – Yours may be the last review response, but no, I haven't forgotten about you! Sorry I haven't updated in so long…I'll try and do better later…


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